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  1. Hi everyone! I'm HarlowBBW, I'm a blonde, pansexual and pan pizza sexual 🍕 and I can't wait to get started showing off my body for you🖤! 🎇Don't forget to stop by and tell me what you think of my first bit of content. This is only the beginning and I look forward to improving to show even more of myself off! Thank you!🎇 I'm thinking of doing "School girl" and "Dolled up" content next. Is there anything anyone else would like to see? P.S. Did you know you could get 4 meals for $10 on the Burger King app!?! I stuffed myself today and I want to do it again! 🐷
  2. Hi🍝🙂 you know, sometime i cant sleep and go eat in night... You eat in night sometime also?
  3. ((This one was a bit of a spur of the moment, but when I heard J. Geils come on the radio, I got to thinking about the lyrics and how easily that could apply to a weight gain story. I hope you enjoy this little one and done, as it was a lot of fun to write, particularly the first half. Do let me know what you think and if you'd like to see more one-shots like this in the future!)) CENTERFOLDS I dreamt I was back in high school the other night. There I was, wandering the halls of St. Anne’s in my cheap khakis and cheaper polo, frantically tucking in my shirt before our dick of a principal sees me. My ratty hair was dangling close to my eyes once more—a length it has never been able to achieve since. I passed by some freshmen playing cards under the main stairwell, Chucky Rizzo and Arianna Thompson making out without a care who noticed, and Brian Reed tossing a football with one of the other goons on the football team. It was like I had never left, even though it’s been almost twenty years since I graduated. My feet carried me to my locker as they had done hundreds of times, and just as it did in real life, it refused to open when I put in my combination. I tried time and time again, even kicking the damned thing, but the lock was stubborn as I was. In the midst of my frantic attempts, someone came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. “Having a little trouble, Chase?” asked a girl with a voice as smooth as warm caramel. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it is, but I would never deny myself a chance to check out Molly Buchanan. Just like everyone else in my dream, she hadn’t aged a day: the same curly brown hair that bounced when she walked; the same mocha skin that was clean of any blemishes; the same uniform that was just a little too tight for her. This time, she was wearing a navy skirt that was just long enough to stay within regulation but gives a good view of her thick thighs—thighs that used to propel her around the volleyball court until she tore her tendon—and a white sweatshirt that couldn’t hide how developed her chest had become. That was always one of my favorite ensembles of hers. When I tried to reply to her, the words wouldn’t come out; my mouth was just flapping like a puppet. I must have said something funny, because she giggled, “Well, you’re not going to get in like that. Let me see if I can help.” I stepped aside and allowed her access to the locker. As she slowly and gently turned the dial, I caught a whiff of peaches—that shampoo of hers, I think. Somehow, Molly managed to do the impossible and opened my locker without any problem, and she turned to me with a warm smile. “It just needs a little TLC, that’s all,” she assured me. “How was your weekend?” Once again, I wordlessly responded and she nodded her head in acknowledgement. A little double chin formed when she nodded—yet another sign that she was plumping up. While she was never super-fit or skinny, Molly used to be more athletic in appearance; if she was thick, it was only from a light padding around her muscles. The injury in her junior year changed that, and come our senior year, that muscle had turned into pudding and she went from ‘thick’ to ‘chubby’. By graduation, she would be teetering on the border of out and out fat, and her gown barely hid that. “Sounds like fun!” Molly replied, though I’m pretty sure my weekend then was spent doing dick-all. “It was so nice this weekend that I decided to get some exercise and go for a hike!” That was a little white lie and she knew it. I might not have been close with Molly, but I sat in front of a couple of her friends in Chemistry, and they often whispered how she spent the weekends in her pajamas. Whether it was her old injury still hurting her or she lost the will to really exercise, who could say? All I knew was that every time she decided to ditch working out for lazing around, she guaranteed another couple pounds on her already soft frame. Of course, it was not entirely her fault that she was so pudgy these days—just mostly. As I walked with her to our shared English class, she was stopped by one of the girls in the cheer squad who had a plate of cookies in her hand. She held them up to Molly and asked, “Molly, hey! We’re setting up a bake sale for the squad later, and I wanted to get your thoughts on some of the products.” “Oh, I shouldn’t, Erica,” the bashful, blushing beauty replied as she nibbled her lip. “I’ve put on a couple pounds lately, and I don’t know if cookies are the best thing for my diet.” “Please? I really want to make the most sales, and I need the best cookies for that,” Erica told Molly with a pout and puppy dog eyes. “Besides, how’re a couple cookies going to hurt?” Molly continued to meekly protest, but I knew that her resistance would crumple like a house of cards before long. Even before the accident, she could not turn down sweets; it was why her baby fat never quite went away. Sure enough, when presented with a plate full of chocolate chip cookies, she took two—with a third at Erica’s insistence. She tried to appear abashed at breaking her ‘diet’, but there was no hiding the little hum she made when she took her first bite. All three were gone by the time we reached our class, which was impressive considering that Mr. Berkley’s room was only a few paces from my locker. When we walked through the door though, we were not in Mr. Berkley’s classroom, where the walls were lined with posters of authors and their famous quotes. We somehow found ourselves in the old cafeteria with its architecture that had not changed since the 60s. This being a dream though, it made perfect sense to us—of course the door to 304 leads right into the cafeteria, duh. I followed her until she took her usual spot with her friends and I chose mine at the next table over. While my pals chatted in dream gibberish, I glanced over at Molly, who laughed and talked with her friends about this and that. Per usual, she had the largest lunch among them: leftover chicken parm, garlic bread, and assorted veggies; it was practically a dinner-sized portion. Still, she tackled it with aplomb, eating it down to the last crumb. It helped that she talked so much that she lost attention of what was on her plate—so much so that when she stabbed her fork down for one last bite of the parm, she came up empty. Just because she finished her lunch didn’t mean that she was done though, as a once daily ritual played out in front of my eyes. One of Molly’s friends pulled out a cup of pasta salad and passed it to her, claiming that she didn’t really care for it. Molly accepted it graciously, as she always did, but the offerings did not stop there, for more goodies were placed in front of her. The amount varied from day to day, as I recalled: sometimes, it was as a couple bites from a plate; other times, it was enough to constitute an entire meal. Regardless, she always took them with a smile, happy to dispose of the unwanted portions—even though she would later whine about how her clothes weren’t fitting right. This was one of those days where she ate a huge portion, or perhaps it was just my dream showing me what I wanted to see. In addition to the pasta salad, she wolfed down a muffin, a third of a sandwich, a cup of yogurt, and half a slice of cake—quite the feat for the former athlete. By the time she finished, Molly leaned back in her chair and patted her stomach, and even through her sweatshirt, I could tell that her stomach was looking bloated. She came down with a case of the hiccups but carried on as though she had not just eaten two meals worth of food, laughing and joking with her friends. When the bell rang and signaled another class, I was greeted by the lovely sight of Molly standing up and stretching her arms over her head. This caused her shirt to come untucked from her skirt—assuming it had been tucked in at all to begin with—and gave me a good look at the belly that had blossomed at her waist. It was just beginning to pooch out, a permanent bloat that would never disappear, no matter how much she tried to suck it in. I wanted so badly to hold it in my hands and give it a squeeze, but even in my dream, I was too cowardly to admit anything like that to her. Still, my staring caught her eye, and we both looked away with pink in our cheeks. As I got up to throw my trash out, Molly fiddled with her shirt and did her best to tuck it in, but with how the waistband of her skirt bit into her soft stomach, there was no chance that would happen. She opted instead to roll it up so it hid under her sweatshirt—the best the burgeoning fat girl could achieve. She quickly scurried out of the cafeteria in her embarrassment, but this just gave me a perfect view of the curve of her ass in her skirt. Maybe that skirt was flowing at one point, but not anymore; its wearer was just too thick for that. I followed her every bouncing step right out the cafeteria door, mesmerized by the wobble that ran through her lower body, until I accidentally bumped into her when she came to a sudden halt. Instead of being irritated, she just looked at me with a shy grin and told me, “Careful there!” I mouthed a silent apology before I realized we were not in school anymore—somehow, we had gone right next door to the then-new Starbucks. My friends and I would gather in the far side of their parking lot to smoke and people-watch, and it was there that I discovered Molly went to the coffee shop almost daily for an afterschool snack. Sometimes, it was a slice of lemon pound cake; other times, it was a triple chocolate chunk cookie. Regardless of what she was having, she washed it down with a venti Frappuccino, as if she had not had enough calories throughout the day. True to form, she stepped up to the counter and asked the barista, “Could I get a tall…no, a grande java Frappuccino, please?” “Want to upgrade to a venti? It’s just a few cents extra,” the clerk suggested. Molly nibbled at her lip as she waged a battle inside over whether or not she should have the larger drink; I could practically see the angel and devil arguing on her shoulders. Eventually, she relented and fibbed, “Why not? I’ve been good today.” As the barista scribbled down her name on a cup, she asked, “Will that be all?” Before Molly could respond, I finally found my voice and asked aloud, “How about a brownie?” The barista paid me no mind, but Molly turned to face me with wide eyes and tomato-red cheeks. She sputtered some sort of reply while I wracked my brain for an explanation, finally deciding on, “Well, they just looked so good—it’d be a shame to pass up.” I want to tell her that it’s because I know that brownie will go straight to her thighs, and that the look on her face when she eats something so rich and chocolaty is downright sinful, but I bite my tongue. She hesitated for a moment before turning back and pointing to one of the brownies in the case, nodding bashfully when they pulled one out for her. After she paid for her treats, she shuffled off to the side and waited for them to be prepared. I can’t recall if I ordered anything: knowing my tastes back then, I might have just gotten a small black coffee, but who cares about my order? As I walked out of the store, I passed by Molly nibbling away at her brownie and sipping from her frothy drink. She had a drip of melted chocolate on her cheek, which she quickly licked away before anyone else could see, and gave me a small wave and a smile. “Good choice on the brownie, Chase,” she remarked before taking another big bite. “I haven’t had one of these in so long; they’re murder for my diet, you see.” I wanted so badly to take control of this dream—to be the driver rather than the passenger—all to live out my years-old desires. How I longed to walk up to her and poke her in the stomach to remind her of just how useless her myriad ‘diets’ had been. How I wished I could pinch those flabby thighs of hers and ask if she even remembered what it was like to play volleyball. How it killed me to know I could not take everything from the bakery case and feed it to her until she was too big for her uniform. Sadly, it was not meant to be, and I could only stand by while my mind played a ‘greatest hits’ of Molly Buchanan’s slow slide into fatness. *** The dream comes and goes from time to time. Sometimes, I’ll have it three days in a row; one time, I didn’t have it for a full year. I wonder if I’ll ever stop having it or if I’m forced to go back to St. Anne’s for the rest of my days, all to watch my old crush make fat talk and eat herself into new sizes. A psychologist might say that I have some unresolved issues that need to be addressed, but what do they know? Maybe if I’m old and gray and still having these nocturnal visits, I’ll see about fixing it. For now, I’m content with where things are. I’m thirty-five now, even though I feel like I should be a lot older. My hair started thinning back in college, so I let it go out with some dignity and shaved my head; I tell myself that I look like Bruce Willis, but that’s just stroking my ego. I’ve gotten a little paunchy in the middle due to my eating habits not changing in the past twenty years and opting to buy out more than cook anything actually healthy. I make a tidy living as an electrician, even if it does require me to work some odd hours and the occasional holiday, and I’ve got myself a nice apartment. It’s not the high life, but I’m a simple man; I don’t need much to be happy. At the end of my shifts, I like to stop by this old convenience store a few blocks from my flat and treat myself. The owner, Manu, is this older guy that’s pretty chill and laidback, and he greets every customer like they’re old friends. He makes the best milkshakes in town and has some pretty exotic snacks on his shelves, but there’s one reason I go to his shop above all else. There’s a particular magazine he keeps in stock that I can’t find anywhere else, and he always pulls a copy for me when it comes in. The magazine? Curves—a magazine for those who appreciate a full-figured woman. Call me a dinosaur, but I am a connoisseur of lady mags and have been since I first found someone’s hidden stash of Playboys back in middle school. Could I find the exact same material online for free? Yes, and I partake in it on a daily basis, but that’s not why I get the hard copy. There’s just something special about opening up a magazine and perusing it, especially when you get to the centerfold. In an age where racy pictures are a dime a dozen online, unfolding those three page spreads to see a lovely lady waiting inside makes it so much more unique. My love of centerfolds was put to the test one day, when I swung by Manu’s on my lunch break to grab a sandwich and some chips. As I walked in the door, the old man waved to me from behind the counter and beckoned me over with a grin. He gave me a high-five and exclaimed, “Chaser, my man! You doing all right today?” “Not too bad so far, Manu,” I replied. “Been working on a faulty transformer for most of the morning, then I’m off to check out a lamppost out by the mall.” “Nice, nice, nice,” Manu hummed before ducking under the counter. “Well, the magazines came in a little early ‘cause of the holiday, and I pulled your usual aside for you.” “You, sir, have made my day,” I told him in all sincerity. After busting my ass for the last few hours trying to get a transformer back up and running, I needed a pick-me-up something fierce, and the cure for what ailed me was a big, big woman. Manu handed me my monthly Curves and I looked over the cover while I walked around the store to gather the components of my lunch. The girl on the cover was just what the doctor ordered: a Latina done up like a hot teacher, complete with a plunging blouse that showed off her acres of cleavage and stretched so tight around her stomach that I could see her belly through the button gaps, and topped off with a pencil skirt that looked ready to snap around hips that could overflow a hula hoop. She was taking a bite out of a slice of apple pie, and a drop of filling had landed on one of her caramel breasts; I would have given my left hand to feed her that and the rest of the pie it came from. As nice as the cover was, I could not wait to see who the Curvy Cutie was that month. They always managed to find some amazing butterballs to fill the centerfold, like when they had a girl whose ass was big enough to fill a couch or the MILF whose gut drooped almost to her knees. They had these little factoids to accompany the pictures, but I didn’t care much for those; they normally read like bad erotica, and if I wanted that, I would just go online. I was reaching for a soda when I flipped the centerfold open, and it was a good thing I had not picked one yet because it would have hit the floor. There, in a three page spread, was Molly Buchanan in all her glory and about two hundred pounds heavier than when I last saw her. Sure, her hair was dyed a rosy red, her nose was pierced, and she looked like someone had blown her up with helium, but there was no denying it was her. I took a quick look at the name on the back of the spread, and sure enough, her name was listed as ‘‘Massive’ Molly B.’ I don’t know how long I was standing there staring at the picture, but I was etching every single inch of it into my memory. There was nothing modest about her body anymore; anything gentle or subtle had gone out of the window ages ago. Her cheeks, which had once been soft but retained some definition, were now swaddled with fat that led down to a thick double chin that, if I had to guess, would fold into a triple if she looked down. While her arms were never ripped, they at least looked like they were toned; now, her biceps were as wide as her thighs used to be and drooped over her elbows. Of course, I did not linger on those for long. My attention was drawn to the zeppelins that rested on her belly, how plush and pillowy they looked. One of her hands—themselves, fat little mitts with sausage fingers—hefted up a tit, and I gawked at just how much her fingers sank into that blubber. If I had to guess, those udders of hers were so big that she could probably suck on them herself; the only challenge would be lifting them up, considering how she clearly did little weight training these days. Her breasts might have been huge, but they paled in comparison to her stomach. I used to think I was lucky to see a glimpse of her starter belly back in school; if only I could go back in time and show myself what lay in store. Molly had been blessed with a gut that was so huge, it had three clear divisions: a round upper part that jutted out and formed a shelf for her tits to rest on; a solid slab in the middle that formed a wall of fat that acted like a barrier before her; a flabby lower part that formed a ring around her waist and produced love handles thick enough to hold like a handle bar. That beast of a belly dipped down so low that her crotch was completely covered and was on a fast track to overtake her knees, assuming it had not already by the time this issue had been published. The way Molly was posed, it was hard to get a feel for just how wide she had become, but I could tell that she was nothing short of ‘broad’; I would have bet dollars to donuts that normal doorways were a struggle for her. Likewise, I couldn’t get an idea of how big her butt was, except for the fact that it was enormous and pooled behind her as she lay back on some purple sheets. Thankfully, I could see that those thunder thighs I had longed for years ago had only gotten wider, to the point that they touched clear past her knees, which were nearly buried under all her lard. It was everything I ever wanted to see: Molly Buchanan was so big that she would break her desk and would need help getting in and out of classrooms; fantasies of her this size had helped me through some rough years. The longer I gazed at that centerfold though, the more conflicted I felt about it. Sure, it was Molly Buchanan in excess of what had to be 400 pounds, but it was not the Molly Buchanan I remembered. The model spread out on those sheets, nibbling on the end of one of her curls, was sultry and seductive as a fattened femme fatale. What made Molly so special in my eyes was how bashful she could be, especially after she started piling on the pounds. I could have stood there forever as I pondered the duality of man, but thankfully, Manu’s voice shook me from my stupor. He called out to me, “My friend, this isn’t a library. You want to read it, you’ll need to buy it.” When I realized I had been standing by the freezer with a girly mag wide open, I turned red as a pepper and shuffled up to the register as quick as I could. I offered a meek apology as I gave what I had to Manu, but the old man just laughed and said, “Not a problem—we all have our pleasures. Just maybe enjoy yours on your own time, yeah?” I nodded, abashed, and hurried out once I had everything bagged and paid for. Once I was back in the privacy of my van though, I pulled the magazine out and opened it to the centerfold again. I just couldn’t help myself; I was like a man possessed. After taking a lingering look at the spread once more, I flipped it over to the little interview and information blurb on the back. I have no idea what I thought I would find there and how much was true, but I had just to know more. The first piece I went to was the size chart, which gave all the stats like height, three sizes, and most importantly, weight. Height didn’t mean anything to me since I never knew it back in school; even if I did, her sizes and weight would have made me forget it right away. Molly had been eating well since high school: her bust came in at 58 inches around; her waist was a beastly 69 inches; her hips were surprisingly close to her chest at 61 inches. It was mindboggling that she was five feet around in one area, nearly there in another, and almost six in the middle, but then, I shouldn’t have expected anything less from this 436 pound goddess. After the sizes, Curves would run a short story written by a freelancer that was meant to be enticing but usually came off as trash. The one for Molly came from someone named Cyril Figguns or something, but I couldn’t have cared less; I knew the real story of how she got fat, and I didn’t need some hack punching it up. I skipped ahead to an interview with her, as this would give me the best look at just who she was now. Turned out that after graduating from St. Anne’s, she got a degree in education and was in it for a good few years before she got canned for a little side project. I guess they didn’t like the idea of kindergarteners being taught by a cam-girl—bunch of prudes, if you ask me. She never did stop gaining weight: if anyone ever asked, she would say she was always trying a new diet or building up to one; reading that made me wonder if that was her tactic all along. After she became an online model full-time, she floated from gig to gig, mostly staying self-employed before she found herself in a proper plus-sized modeling agency. What really caught my eye was a comment she made about how she got started gaining. She told the interviewer, “Back in high school, it seemed like everyone was out to make me fat: my friends shared their lunches with me, my mom insisted that I eat more to keep up my strength, and random people would offer me snacks. That never really changed in college, so I came to the conclusion that if the world wanted me to be fat, then that’s what I would do. If being fat is my destiny, then I’m going to live the fattest life I can!” When I finished that part, I sat back and stared into space for God knows how long. All the memories I have of her eating and slowly filling out…was I a part of her origin story? I had no idea that all those innocent little incidences were adding up to create an elephant of a woman, but it all made sense in hindsight. Molly could have always turned down anything offered to her, but she never did—she ate it all with the meekest of protests. If Fate wanted her to be fat, it was never going to be a challenge; Molly Buchanan was ready for the fat life well before her modeling career. I went on with the rest of my day, thinking about her centerfold and balancing the two Mollys in my head—the sweet, chubby girl next door from my youth and the beautiful, bombastic blimp that posed in the bare. It’s not like I’m some sort of prude that frowned upon nudity; it’s just that, of all the people I ever expected, it wouldn’t have been the girl who turned bright red whenever her shirt raised up enough to show a sliver to stomach. After I finished checking out the streetlight, I went back to my van and filled out the paperwork before I got a call from dispatch. I switched my phone to speaker and said, “Chase here. I was just finishing up at the mall job and going to circle back to camp. Got something for me?” “Got a woman out at 11943 Sycamore Place saying that her breaker is sparking. Mind taking a look at that on your way back?” asked the dispatcher. Sycamore Place was right around the corner from the mall; I could have walked there if need be. I told the dispatcher, “Yeah, I’ll see what’s going on. Fingers crossed that it’s just a small fix, but I’ll let you all know if I need to come back. Got a name and a number for me?” The kid on the other end shuffled through some paperwork before answering, “It’s a Molly Buchanan, 202...” As soon as I heard her name, I froze up and missed the phone number. I swallowed a lump in my throat and asked, “Could…could you repeat that?” When the kid gave me the same information again, I knew I was not hearing things but I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. What were the chances? I had a better chance of getting the Powerball lottery three weeks in a row; a snowball had a better chance in hell than I did of getting Molly Buchanan as a customer the same day I saw her centerfold spread. “You okay, Chase? Want me to send anyone else?” asked dispatch. I shook the cobwebs from my head and replied, “No, no, I’m good. I’m going to call her right now to let her know I’m on the way.” That’s what I told the kid, but I had no idea what I would say to her. I haven’t had the best luck with women to begin with, but seeing my old crush after everything? I didn’t know the first thing to say. And when I get there, what would I talk about? Would she even remember me after all these years? I had dozens of questions buzzing through my head and not a single answer to be found. When I looked at my watch and saw that ten minutes had passed though, I realized I had to at least make a call. Mustering all my courage and professionalism, I dialed the number given to me and took a deep breath. I was not the same awkward kid I was in high school, just like she was not the same shy girl. If she could change, then so could I. After a few rings, I heard that old, familiar voice greet me, “Hello?” “Hi, this is Chase with Holt Electric,” I said with a smile. “Having a little trouble, Ms. Buchanan?” THE END
  4. Hello everyone guess who got there stuff uploaded to curvage?!😱😁 My sister and I will be sharing so much of ourselves so often I can’t wait to hear all the feedback. I’d love to know who wants to see what from us? What would you like to see the most? Please be creative nothing is too silly. I’m on the left Katie, my sister Kammy is on the right. If I didn’t post this in the right place I’m sorry it wasnt on purpose XD we are learning.
  5. just wanted to introduce myself! i’m scarlette ava, i’ve been kind of chunky my whole life but in the past few years have really filled out 🧀🍟🌮🌭 as you can see i have a big ass, boobs, and a chubby tummy 😉 i’m excited to delve into the world of feederism 💗
  6. Hi everyone. My twin sister and I are hoping to be accepted into curvage so we can post and make lots of whatever you guys and gals want! Anytime you ever see a photo of us, it means a video from that time exists as well😘. We have lots of content all ready just for curvage to uploaded. We shake out bootys together, eat pizza together, we dance around in underwear showing out fat bouncing all over, we play in the pool together, my sister loves whipped cream a lot in her videos lol. All of the things I Jjst mentioned we already have videos made and ready for you. We offer so much and can’t wait to hear feedback and hear what else the people want.
  7. Hello. Im Jazz and i’m new in this platform, i’m a mexican bbw and i’d like to become a curvage model 🤩
  8. So. Simple start to this; My partner of 7 years is very vanilla. He isn’t into bdsm, or fat fetish of any kind. He loves me obviously but he isn’t like… into my belly? He isn’t against it he just… doesn’t notice it. It’s odd. He truly doesn’t have a preference for thin or fat chicks. Just likes pretty…. But I am very into bdsm & I’m trying to explore different aspects of the fetishes related to fat & food that I have… What do I… do? Idk. I’m not even sure what I’m asking, I just want to talk about it I guess? How do I be with someone who doesn’t have any of the kinks I do?
  9. Can anyone help ID this model?
  10. I love eat Pizza sometime. You love? 🙂 But if i have chance i Will choose vegan Pizza 🥰 You can look and enjoy with me here
  11. Hey there! How are you all doing? Hope you are all well ❤️ I just uploaded my first clip as a curvage model and I'm waiting for it to be approved This is so exciting and so much fun. I'm getting all tingly inside and even more hungry (is that even possible??) I'm looking forward to upload a lot of more clips on here and the attention I get is turning me on Sooo... what would you like to see me do on video? I'm a huge swedish girl with tattoos and piecings and I love love LOVE to eat! My favourite foods are tacos, cake and meatballs. And pasta, asian food and homemade cookies, I love to bake! Actually, I think I like all kinds of food haha and I really love cooking too! Looking forward to your answers ❤️❤️❤️ Btw, here is a couple of sneak peaks from the video I just uploaded! 😘
  12. This is me, all me this was me before feederism and little by little my transformation to a great woman i hope you enjoy Este soy yo, todo yo, este era yo antes del feederism y poco a poco mi transformación en una gran mujer espero que disfrutes
  13. After months of work, I'm releasing my first Weight Gain Novella. Blurb: Everyone struggles with their weight from time to time. The newest chemistry teacher at the university, Annie Keller, is no different. While most of her students don't notice or care, one of her repeat students definitely has. Come on a journey of discovery as Ian learns how many cookies he can cook in a semester while finding out just how deep his professor's weight issues run. It's a light forbidden romance story between a college student and their professor featuring female weight gain and ventriphilia(belly fetish) content. Counting the optional sex scene( Separated out at the end for those who don't like sex content) it clocks in at a bit over 20k words spread over 11 chapters. If you want to taste a bit, you can read the first chapter here: https://www.deviantart.com/juxtaterrestrial/art/Weighted-Grades-Chapter-1-882050318 Additionally, I've attached the cover below to further entice you. If that isn't enough, or if you're sold on the premise alone, you can pre-order the novella here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0979H18LZ If you'd like further assurances, I'd add that this isn't a story that I wrote and immediately uploaded. I had several people read it and provide feedback. Then once I made changes, I had another few people run through correcting the spelling and grammar. I'm sure there still may be flaws, but I'm confident that this is a quality product.
  14. I've been indulging all my little cravings and the results are seriously HOT. I love how plump, round, and ripe my body's becoming
  15. I've just filmed and uploaded my first Curvage video 🥰 any feedback would be greatly appreciated and let me know what content you want to see in future videos ❤
  16. Thought this could be a good topic girls talking about weight gain, their belly's, overeating etc... publicly on social media. Pro tip you can search FB profiles for key words such as "belly", "weight", "ate" "fat". I'll start with a few I've found.
  17. Just a typical underweight young girl tries to gain weight on doctor's advice. Here's what she did with her words... "Let me count what I ate, the first day; morning - four packs of noodles, (each pack is 75g and 200 cal) - a small ** of soup, - two plates of stuffed leaves, (traditional balkan food) - a small pyrex of greenery. noon - just a ** of pasta. two hours later - I've finished all the leaf wraps. evening - just junk food. night - pizza. On the first day, I was stuffed like a pig, because my family didn't care much, so I contiuned The second day; morning - I finished all the noodles in the house. noon - a liter of coke. thirty minutes later - I've ate all the junk food at home. Since I was out of breath for a while, I could only drink a plate of soup for dinner. but I ate a lot more at night because I didn't eat much. night I finished two hamburgers, two medium pizzas, and four of those small Nutellas. The voices in my stomach are not heartwarming at all, I can't get up. I have now gone from 56 kilos to 64 kilos. I can only gas. I can't vomit and I can't go to the toilet at all. please help me." I don't know this story is real but who cares, It's hot to read and this what her belly looks like now
  18. Hello everyone, I´m new :). I have met a girl, we spend amazing time together. We area a couple 2 weeks ago. She says she likes to go out to eat, wich I love (among everything else, of course). But last week she tells me, she´s worried about her uniform is too tight and she´s having dinner later for me. I have noticed that she is eating less than before, but to be honest that bothers me a bit. It always serves me a lot of food. I like her body the way it is, I don´t want her to lose weight. She says she doesn´t care much about her physical appearance. I tell her every day that she´s beautiful and that I like her that way. How can I politely tell her that I am bothered by the fact that she eats much less than before and I like her to join me for dinner? How to say in a good way that I love to see her when she eats? How to tell someone who doesn´t know about feederism that I like her with her weight and that I would be very happy if I sawher a few more kilos? It has cost me to write this, I hope someone who has gone through the same guide me. Thanks!!
  19. Hello everybody! Ready for Happy New year!? Come enjoy with my Last Burger and nuggets In this year! 🥰🥳✨
  20. Hi everyone! I’m getting bigger than ever and I’m ready to get huge!
  21. Hi all, I've written another, short story, which is separate to my last one - Molly and the Chocolate factory. I've published it on DeviantArt so feel free to check it out there, or I also have it on Fantasy Feeder. In this story, I put you, the reader, in a position to enjoy a big beauty devour a seemingly endless feast. I've written 'your character' gender neutrally, so that all can enjoy watching this gluttonous girl chow down! Let me know what you think! KC
  22. What are we all noshing on this time of year?? I can't stop eating Trader Joe's candycane joe joe's, chocolate, butter cookies, and egg nog 🤤🤤
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