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I will preface this by saying this is not my work, there is no author listed and I found this accidentally by clicking on a wiki link . Not sure if many remember, but there used to be a website called Feeder. This website was UK based and dealt with feeders. For a teenager (in 2004) with a interest in the softer female form it had some solid content include pictures of the infamous Kelligrl. I have edited this story form its relatively raw .txt form. Enjoy this insight into the days of pornography over dial up, I can almost hear the modem singing. **************************************************************************************************** My daydreaming ended when Stacy slammed her hips against the car door. "Damn thing won't stay closed", she mumbled, exasperated. I came around to give her a hand but she nearly knocked me over with a swinging bag of groceries. "I'm glad you drove, because I'm fed up with just about everything today!" She noticed I was staring at the car door. "Whoops! I guess I'm going to need some body work. Oh well , I'll deal with it tomorrow". She turned her back on the large dent in the passenger door and waddled inside. I followed her in amazement, still not believing this was real - but not wanting it to end. I met her only three weeks before, in an off-campus bar of all places. I was with several friends who definitely did not share my interest in fat women, but I could have cared less. The only thing is , she was so extraordinary, so damn BIG, I could not contain my excitement. I went back into the bar on the pretence that I had lost my wallet, and told the rest of them I would meet them at the car. Somehow, fate intervened, and her friends chose to leave her alone for a moment. But what really had me hooked besides the fact that her hips snuck onto her friends chair, was that she looked at me and had this deliciously sexy look on her face, as if to say "Come on - I'll bet I'm all you've dreamed of... and more!" But the fact remained, I had no idea what I was getting myself into that night. I got her phone number and spent the whole next week dreaming of having a huge blond Viking woman telling me she loved me. I was sure I had exaggerated the incident in my mind. I called her once, got her answering machine, and made a million excuses not to try again. I finally got the courage to call her again about three days later. She was a little cold, but agreed to meet. " Well, you see, I don't really remember what you look like...and besides - my last boyfriend said he would marry me.. I don't know - I guess it's O.K." Hardly an auspicious start. I was a little apprehensive to say the least. We arranged to meet at her house. I tried to pretend I was not uncomfortable, but I realised I never got a really good look at Stacy in that dark bar, but I did remember she had a pretty face, and was obviously VERY overweight. Nothing prepared me for the experience of our first date. We were double-dating with her best friend, who turned out to be a cute,plump redhead. Michelle answered the door when I arrived. "Steve is here." she announced. A few minutes later, Stacy appeared. I felt as if a lightning bolt hit me and my knees got weak as I got my first real look at her. She was HUGE, one of the biggest women I'd ever laid eyes on. I knew she was big, but I had no idea she was 8 inches taller than me! She stood before me , in all of her 6'3" glory. "HI!", she said with a bright smile on her face. "I'll be ready in a minute!" With that she waddled back down the hall. I watched her incredibly wide ass jiggle with every step. Each butt-cheek was easily as big as a beach ball! Her thighs rubbed together as she moved, and I noticed she was huffing and puffing by the time she got back to her bedroom. It all seemed to good to believe. I had dreamed of fatter girls, or taller girls, but she was the total package. That night people stared, made comments under their breath or did an otherwise poor job of pretending they didn't notice us. Instead of being embarrassed, I liked the attention. Stacy seemed indifferent, even when a little boy blurted out "That lady is BIG." His older brother tried to silence him, but he protested " I'm only saying...." The weirdest part of the night was just holding hands. Her hands were much bigger, and because of the height difference I had to lift my shoulder to reach comfortably. Not that I would complain. I finally got the courage to ask her how much she weighed. To my surprise she answered readily. Well, I weighed 432 last time I checked, but I think I've put on some since then." She giggled., and I didn't pursue the issue. I was quite blown away as it was.. Nearly nine months had passed and Stacy and I saw each other nearly everyday. Maybe that's why I didn't realise - she had put on quite a bit of weight since we met. She really loved to eat, and I secretly encouraged her by buying her fattening goodies all the time. Just how much weight neither of us knew, until one day she returned from a doctor's appointment. Stacy had an odd look on her face. A bit worried, I asked if something was wrong. "That depends on how you feel about having a 500 lb. girlfriend! I've gained so much weight...the doctor told me I need to lose a few hundred pounds." I put my arms around her and felt the thrill I always got from holding a woman so big I could barely reach halfway around. "I love having a big, sexy girlfriend. I've always dreamed of being with someone like you. Besides, I have to admit, the bigger you get, the more you turn me on. I hope this doesn't scare you off, but I've always fantasied about being with a woman likes being fat and wants to get even fatter." Stacy looked down at me and said "Are you serious? Do you really mean that?" I nodded, feeling an erection developing, in spite of being afraid she would be offended. "Here I was worried I would get too fat for you. All this time you were enjoying it!" She sat down heavily in the love seat she nearly filled completely. "I have a confession to make. I secretly have always wanted to be fat." Stacy looked nervous, but went on. "I've never told anyone this. I hated dieting in high school. I've always put on weight easily and really had to watch myself. But when I got out on my own I decided I just didn't care what people thought and I just ate whatever I wanted. I didn't try to get fat, but...I did. Part of me loved it." Her eyes were twinkling, but she looked a bit ashamed. "Now it's like I just can't seem to get enough to eat. When you're not around I eat constantly. Even when I'm full I still eat until I feel like I'm going to burst. Last night, I ate an entire cheesecake and didn't even feel full. I even eat lot's of cookies or three or four sandwiches before you come over so I won't make a pig of myself in front of you!" I kissed her passionately on the lips and felt a shiver go through her body. "From now on, I want you to eat as much as you want, whatever you want. You could never be too fat for me. In fact I'll only love you more the bigger you get." Stacy looked at me with her big blue eyes and smiled, dimples forming in her fat cheeks. "I want to get fatter. The idea of just letting myself go...it's something I always thought about but I was afraid. Someone as tall as me could get pretty big...but I need someone to take care of me. Are you willing to move in with me?" I couldn't believe this was happening, but I didn't hesitate to say YES! It was our second anniversary of the day I moved in.. Stacy had promised something special would happen when I got home, but wouldn't say what. I figured because it was Friday night we would go out, but Stacy rarely left the house anymore. In fact,since that fateful day when we decided to live together, she had gotten progressively lazier. And Fatter! I never imagined someone's appetite could get so hopelessly out of control! She would park herself on the couch, surrounded by chips, cookies, doughnuts and just stuff herself for hours, and still eat meals big enough for 4 or 5 people. She was literally getting fatter by the day, and appeared to love every minute! I walked in the house, but everything was quiet and dark. The TV was on, but Stacy was nowhere to be found. The living room looked like a cyclone hit it. There were wrappers, pie tins, empty potato chip bags and pop cans everywhere. I went into the bedroom. "Stacy?", I called. "Where's the maid?' "I sent her home early today. I'm in the bathroom dear. Wait a minute." came a muffled reply. I stepped on something and picked it up. It was the sweat pants Stacy had put on this morning. They was a gaping hole where they had split at the seams! Stacy waddled out at that moment. I had a raging hard-on in an instant. She was wearing a bikini that was barely more than threads. Her once plump face was now just plain fat and surrounded by a huge double chin that quivered when she talked. Her upper arms billowed out, bigger around than my waist. Her hips were so wide she had to turn sideways to fit through the doorway, yet her belly, which by now was extremely distended from her constant gluttony would scrape the door jambs. Soon she would be literally too fat to fit through the door! The floor shook with every heavy step she took and her colossally huge, blubber laden body jiggled like jello, sending ripples down her behemoth belly with the slightest movement. My Stacy, who had been merely big and fat when we met was now an immensely obese Amazon Queen. "Do you like it?" she giggled, noticing my hard-on. "Get that box out from under the bed and open it." I pulled it out and was thrilled to see a scale and several tape measures. Although I had constantly begged her to let me measure and weigh her, she had continually refused, but wouldn't say why. "I had to order that scale special. It cost a fortune! But I figured it would be worth it! I couldn't find a big enough tape measure, though. You'll have to tape some of them together" she said, striking a pose that caused her fat to bunch up off her sides and back. She was deliberately driving me wild! I struggled to get the tape measure around her waist, which I couldn't even reach half-way around! I couldn't believe how incredibly huge she had become - a breathtaking 76-88-110"! Her ass was now 42" across and her thighs were an incredible 62" each. Then she stepped on the scale and I groaned as I nearly cummed in my pants. The number lit up to 763lbs.!! Stacy had managed to put on over 250 lbs. in just two years! "O.K. ,you got what you wanted, now its my turn!" She shoved me down on the bed and proceeded to lay on top of me! I was completely pinned beneath her incredible bulk and panicked a little bit, but I sunk into the bed and found I was not hurt. "What's the matter, can't you get up?" Stacy taunted. I was strong , but not that strong. "Enough of this boyfriend - girlfriend thing! I'm not letting you up until you say you'll marry me! I need to know you'll always be here for me. Especially if I get any Fatter!" She grinned wickedly and I knew she had me hook, line, and sinker. THE END (or the beginning?)

I began posting those chapters on writing.com, however that site provides little opportunity for feedback and I most definitely could use some constructive criticism. I could use information what can be improved or if I should even continue to write that drivel. 😁. Please bear in mind that it is my first attempt on writing and English is not my native tongue. Idea of initial setting - ThatOneGuy101 from writing.com. First chapter is heavily inspired by his work. https://www.writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1906246-Mass-Effect-Female-Weight-Gain-Redux/map/1232 Chapter 1: The Observer Nothing added up. Liara had been tracking down records and traces about The Observer, an agent of the Shadow Broker, for months. Hacking terminals, tracing logs, even narrowing the list to 5 species, thanks to the information Nyxeris gave her. Since establishing herself as information broker on Ilium, she was spied on by various individuals. Yet none of them was potentially as dangerous as dangerous as The Observer. He or She was direct subordinate of most powerful information broker in the galaxy, broker she was currently trying to track down and get revenge on. Which given him ample reason to eliminate her. Liara had located dozens of potential suspects, subjecting them to various means of investigations, interrogations and bribery but none of them had been The Observer or had information about him. She hated to admit it, but she was getting nowhere, and she desperately needed to rest. “Liara? Are you alright?” Her assistant, Nyxeris asked with worry in her voice. “Yes, I’m fine,” Liara stated, although it was far from truth. "I doubt it ma'am" retorted older asari with shake of her head. "Do you have problems with your hearing Nyxeris? I said I’m fine" snapped Liara, but then closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. “I'm sorry I have been awake for over 40 hours, but I’m not any closer to finding The Observer, than I was before. I’m going to get some sleep I can, call me if you find anything” “Of course ma'am” Nyxeris bower her head. “Thank you, Nyxeris have a good afternoon,” Liara said as she exited her office and began driving to her apartment. She walked in and despite her state quickly checked her security devices. When she made sure everything was in order she took a quick shower and immediately went to bed. Sleep took her immediately, but didn't free her from The Observer. He tormented her in dreams where he captured and torturing her, subjecting her to all sorts of horrors. Liara awoke in a cold sweat. Goddess... that was awfully. Fortunately the experience of being put thought meatgrinder wasn’t real. She sat on the bed and looked at the clock - 6:30, world outside was still dark, save for multiple lights from windows and cars. She did nor even manage a full night’s sleep, because of her fear, but she was sure she would not be able to fall asleep again. She took a cold shower and put a fresh dress and slowly began performing her morning routine. Liara was about to head out, but her doorbell rang before she could. Liara was more than cautious while on Illium, she was borderline paranoid. Anybody could have just rung her doorbell, starting with ordinary thieves, ending with Reapers puppets and Shadow Broker operatives. She readied a biotics and a pistol, before checking the camera outside. She was surprised to see...

Six years ago... It seems she's not me. I can't even recognise me, not only physically but psychologically. Anyway, I can't love more my body, every new strechtmark, cellulite, belly, arms and back rolls. Especially, these ones that hang from my arms or those that go from my boobs to my back and you are not able to difference when it starts the roll or when it finish the boob. #extrasoftness❤️ Very proud I have enjoyed all my fav food and, most important, all the sensuality of my huge belly & body. Soft huges to you all!

Hello everyone!! oh my gosh I haven’t read or posted on any forums in ages!!! Gotta admit that I’m a tiny bit overwhelmed. But I thought I’d come here and introduce myself. My name is Jazzy and I’m 28 from NC. I love to post pictures of my belly and can’t wait to film some videos. I’ve been a feeder for about 5 years now and have been steady gaining weight. If you have any questions feel free to ask me. p.s i hope I’m posting correctly, If not I’m soooo sorry squishy hugs kawaii

I am in my 40s and I tried a lot of dating apps in the past. I met a lot of ladies and most of them where bbw and ssbbw. I tried dating skinny girls again once and It wasn't the best idea. I also wasn't crazy about them and they notice it. lol 😅 Now in 2020,I find it hard now to find the ideal girlfriend because dating website are a pain in the ass. They force you to pay to either check who liked you or see your messages. I find it discouraging because I don't want to spend 40+$ to just speak to girls. I also don't want to spend time swipping profiles all the time either. I got better things to do. loll The ideal girl for me are ssbbw with big boobs and a big ass. Also with a nice personality that loves cuddles and will follow me in my travels. Those are rare now because girls get a lot of message from bad, salty guys and their attitude changes after this. 🙁 Any tips on how to survice the dating apocalypse and find the right ssbbw girlfriend in 2020 and beyond? I am loosing hope.

Greetings good people of Curvage. I bring you tales of bbws throwing down with other bbws, and bhms, and robots, and a whole host of other stuff! In all seriousness I've decided to expand my audience outside my usual DA readership and chose Curvage cuz of your excellent taste in women. A few things to note about the following series, which I have dubbed "The Sara Morganson Sumo Chronicles": 1. The series alternates between Sara's first person narration and a third person depending on the story. Sometimes I just felt like trying out the third person and mixing things up a bit, what can I say? 2. This isn't strictly a weigh gain story. Not really. Sara starts at 425 and for my own sense of consistency, she stays a very active 425. This is less a weight gain story and more a 'plus sized protag going on adventures and getting into fights." I've dabbled in weight gain in the past, I like weight gain stories, but writing wise I prefer bbw/occasional bhm heroes able to throw down physically. 3. A good friend of mine and fellow lover of bbws have been using each others characters freely for years and it will be the same with these stories. I'll point said characters out when they appear at the end of stories, and yes, he's fine with me reposting stuff with his characters here. Basically, the guy (who goes back Radical DG2 on DA for anyone whose curious) is more or less the kinda co-creator of this world given how many of his chars appear throughout these stories. 4. Rad and I are firm believers of putting the 'large' in larger than life. You have been warned. With all that out of the way, here is the first part of the The Sara Morganson Sumo Chronicles: "Sara Morganson and the Sumo Showdown" Enjoy. The First Bout I always get nervous before a match, ever since I was a little sumo. Sweaty hands, heavy breathing, flashes of the worst case scenario, the works. Combine my shaking hands with trying to adjust and retie the last knot on my mawashi belt by myself and you have a very uneasy 20-something sumo wrestler. Curse you, my shaking, sweaty hands! After adjusting my sleek smart mawashi belt, nice and thick like I like em, I look down at my hands again and frown. They’re even worse than they were on the shuttle ride over. Why the tournament is always held in the center asteroid cluster is beyond me. At least if it were in Sector 03, I’d get a nice look out at the stars and nearby planets. The center cluster’s locker room doesn’t even have ports. Just mirrors. The wrestler engineer that designed this room must have been very vain. Glancing up to one of those mirrors, I make sure my bun of black curly hair is tight, before checking back to my belt one final time to make sure that it’s as tight as can be. I always check at least twice before a match. Ever since I lost by losing my mawashi in a school match when I was a teenager… my face still flushes at the memory. I adjust my bra, the only other article of clothing I usually wear in addition to my mawashi, one last time for good luck. Both are my favorite color: Deep space black. Taking a moment to inhale a deep breath, I close my eyes and try to clear my mind of all thoughts and worries and fears. Sadly, the dull drumming of my heart has other thoughts on the matter. Still, nerves or no nerves, all that matters is the match. I exhale and open; my brown eyes being blinded for a moment by the dull off-white flickering glow of the room’s lighting. How does the old saying go again? We can go faster than light but we can’t keep our own lights from flickering? Think that’s how it goes, or close enough at any rate. Whatever. I have a match to take part in and if the spirits of sumo is with me today, win (I hope). I start to walk slowly out of the locker room, each dark brown thigh brushing up against each other with every movement as my bare feet pad against the sleek metal floor. With each step comes the comforting swing of my hips, my bottom-heavy figure shaking side to side with my usual casual gait. It sounds silly to still find the rhythmic swing of your body comforting before a match at my age, but I guess I’m just still a kid at heart. With each quavering step forward, I feel my courage swell and my heartbeat finally slow down. The sides of my bare butt brushes briefly against the dilating doorway, and I grimace. Memories of my mother’s grumblings come floating back like lost space debris. “Figures. Leave it to the state of Douglas Columbia to use the “all around” body type as their building template for everything as oppose to us bottom heavy wrestlers.” Not for the first time since arriving in the center cluster arena, I wish either my parents or even Barbra could make it to the tournament today to show their support in person. You’d think a sumo-based space colony would make the first day of their big tournament a local holiday, but you’d be thinking with basic logic and reason. Something the Board has been lacking in for over a century if my father’s complaints are to be believed. As I make my way down the hallway, this one thankfully wide enough for a wrestler of my width, I glance at the shimmering, faint blue holographic images of wrestlers before me. Most of them I ignore; you go through enough history classes in school and they all the name and ethnicities start to blur together after a while. All save for one, just a few feet away from the open-ended exit where I can hear the roar of the audience that causes me to stop. On the front of her mawashi belt is her name: Barbara Morganson. Former New Douglas Columbia Champion: 3325AD to 3330AD. What the holo-statute doesn’t say is that she was also the first of the Morgansons’ to become the champion of New Douglas Columbia. I just hope my mediocre skills are good enough to keep the family tradition going. Much like most of the previous statues, she has a somber expression etched on her face, hands on her vast hips, rear end flaring out from behind said hips. Thighs as thick as space rocks. Got to admit, the statues do a good job of capturing our family’s African ancestral features if nothing else. Mother likes to joke that we are the distant descendants of an African fertility goddess; hence our impressive bottom-heavy figures. I never have the heart to tell her that it’s probably just good genes and our family’s dedication to the lifestyle. With one final shake of my head, I clear my thoughts and walk into the arena. The dull roar of the audience hits me like a spaceship taking off from the shuttle bay. My arms remain low and I try to keep my breathing calm and try to not let the glare of the lighting bother my eyes. I hastily waddle onto the circular ring. I don’t even really hear the crowd at this point. All the matters now are the ring and clashing in it sumo la sumo. Whether it’s the traditional 15 feet of diameter or the modern 20, a sumo ring or dohyo is something all 20, 000 citizens, from the largest to the smallest, the shortest to the tallest, the fattest to the thinnest, and the poorest to the wealthiest, all have in common. Whatever our jobs might are, we all are sumo wrestlers at heart. It is as natural to us as waddling and breathing. The same way swimming and diving are to aquanauts on worlds and systems dedicated to more… soggier sports and ways of life. As I wait for my opponent to appear from the opposing entrance, I glance out to the crowd. Large, cheering figures chatter and snack among themselves. Apparently, attendance has dropped from when my sister participated. I can still remember the cheering and shouting and smiling afterwards. But now, even with how thick the average New Douglas Columbia is, I can’t help but notice the empty spaces in the stands. But it makes sense, in a way. All the local news articles go on and on about how the current generation just sees themselves as sumo wrestlers as oppose to Sumo Wrestlers. Some blame us become desensitized to the lifestyle of sumo, others the fact that the state doesn’t have the budget to allow all 20,000 members to dedicate themselves full time to our lifestyle. Instead, plenty of our population are dedicated to things like ‘careers needed to keep a collection of interconnected asteroid clusters going as a functioning society with the rest of the Galaxy’. I’m the type of resident that sees her sumohood as a big part of her identity, as opposed to others that just see it as a part of a larger whole, not that there is anything wrong with that, Space knows there are plenty of ‘Hobbiers’ who are better than me even with my dedication to the Lifestyle. Still, even I know a society of nothing but sumo wrestlers would be asking for trouble. I must admit, though, if it would let Barbara, Mom, Dad, be able to take the time to see me wrestle in person, it would do a lot to boost my confidence. Still, I know my ancestor's spirits are watching over me, so that's something. Finally, I feel the ground shake slightly under my feet as my entire body, from my big dark tan bottom to my gut to my contained breasts, all jiggle in anticipation and reaction. “It’s about time,” I mutter, wondering what’s taken my opponent this long to get here. I soon get my answer. She’s carried in by servants on an ancient design wise carriage thing as she sits on a tight but comfortable looking throne. I really wish I had paid more attention in history; at least then I’d know what the damn thing is called. It looks like something out of ancient times. As in, before electricity or America existing, ancient. I think it’s… Greek or something like that? Regardless, the servants (some flesh and blood, others artificial in nature) lower my opponent to the floor. Rising with a grace and dexterity that’s above that of the average sumo, she flaunts her way down to the ring like she owns the thing. My opponent has black hair with gold trimmings, a mole in between her first and second chin, light blue eyeliner and she dresses… really flashy, I guess. I’m a born and bred sumo wrestler, I barely like wearing the optional leotard over my mawashi, let alone anything as fancy as an apron mawashi. But this tanned girl walks and dresses it’s like she thinks she’s some sort of Sumo Royalty. Not that NDC has any sort of monarchy, of course. Her body is clad in a white silk apron style mawashi and bra littered with strange little picture symbol. I think their called shieroglyphics. Between her swaggering waddle, her flamboyant entrance, and the fact that she kept me waiting, I take an instant dislike to the girl. I glare at her as best I can with my inexperience with giving people dirty looks, but she ignores me as she takes her position from across from me. “From the East we have Menwi Meskhenet, Duchess of the Dohyo.” I roll my eyes as this Menwi girl starts to give the crowd air kisses, several them roaring with cheers in response, before finally turning her attention back to me. She gives me a coy smile, as if to say ‘Do you really think you can beat me?’ “And from the West, the younger sister of one of our previous champions, we have Sara Susan Morganson!” I give the audience a small wave before turning my eyes to the front of my mawashi and gut. This might sound silly for a sumo wrestler to say, but I’ve never been good with dealing with big crowds of people. I guess I’m just not a very theatrical wrestler by nature. Still, I get a few cheers anyways, which helps strengthen my resolve, even if only by a little. The announcer then reads off her stats. First bit of bad news: Menwi is taller than my 6 feet by a whole three inches. Second bit: She’s heavier than I am; 480 pounds (I can see her muscles bulging from her biceps and legs as she crouches down into a starting position) compared to my slightly above average 425 (the average adult weight in NDC is around 380). And to round us off, bad new point number three: She’s also been off the colony in the past, having won a few smaller tournaments back on the Sol System that I had never heard of before today. I can feel my nerves start back up again as my lungs begin laboring heavy breaths. I can do this. I just need to keep calm, pay attention to Menwi’s movements and take the offensive. All I can do is meet her head on with all my strength as a sumotori and hope for the best. After that, the outcome is in the hands of the spirits of sumo wrestlers past. A man, dressed in the elaborate colorfully patterned robe of the gyōji-referee walks into the ring clenching the handle a gunbaiwar fan in his silver metal hand. Raising a dull bronze arm, he points to both of us. I rise my right leg up to the side of my head before stomping the ground hard. Menwi does the same with her own right and then we both do our stomps one final time with our lefts. With our Shiko-stomp ceremony completed, the gyōji-referee gives us the go head to start the match. With the soles of my feet slapping the clay flooring of the stage, I charge at Menwi with my arms held out in a wide bear hug like pose. Menwi steps back slightly and tries to protect herself by raising her arms, but I manage to wrap my arms on the sides of her mawashi belt. Much as I hate to admit it, that synthetic skill material does feel nice to the touch. I shove forward as my arm muscles and veins visibly bulge from the effort. Menwi, however, managed to keep herself stable and begins fighting back. Lashing out, she hits me with a one-two palm strike combo to the stomach. Thankfully, I have enough gut fat to deflect most of the impact from those blows, but the force still makes me loosen my grip on her belt. Seizing the moment, Menwi lurches her stomach directly into me like an asteroid and for a moment I feel the wind knocked clean out of my lungs as a stagger back, my hands now mawashi-less. Before I have time to react, Menwi charges at me with a speed that causes the whole stage to shake (a very common event when two or more sumos clash). Whack! Wham! Smack! Two palm blows to my right and one on my throat force me to fall down with a thunderous crash. Thankfully, my big brown bottom-like most bottom-heavy wrestlers- manages to cushion most my fall. With a twist and jiggle of my backside, I repel myself back up to my feet. I frown slightly. I’m already down by one. Two more falls, or getting pushed out of the ring naturally, and I’m finished. But no time to worry about that! Menwi is already back on the offensive, rushing at me with her hands at her hips (mine, I should add, are wider despite our weight difference), the flat of her palms wide and open. I sidestep an incoming palm strike aimed for my face and once more reach for her mawashi. Snatching the side of it with both of my hands, I center my feet like a mountain and twist. With beads of sweat breaking out on my arms, I turn and toss Menwi in a 180-degree twist which sends her flying to the ground on her stomach. Sadly, I wasn’t strong enough to fling her out of the ring (What? You think it's easy grabbing and throwing you fellow 300+ pound wrestler around? As if!), but I can take us being tied for infractions. Menwi is a little slower to get off the ground than I was with my butt and when she does, she takes a few seconds to brush her apron-mawashi and bra off for dust. Much to my annoyance she smiles at me all cat and coy-like. “I must admit, you aren’t quite as pitiful as I thought you were going to be.” “Gee, thanks.” By now both of us are circling like sharks (No, space sharks aren’t a thing, what would a space shark even look like?), looking for any opening to go for a mawashi grab. Finally, we both bite the plasma bullet and make a grab for it at the same time. With our vast breasts and bellies smashing up against each other, Menwi continues, whispering in my ear as both our arms surge and sweat in unison. “You must realize, dear, that I am clearly the best choice for becoming champion, yes? Have you ever even left the colony?” “That. Is. None of your business!” I snarl, face reddening from effort and anger. “I’ll take that as a no.” I’ll give her this; it takes a lot of skill for a sumo to carry on a conversation like this when both are locked up tight against each other like this. “Well I have, I’ve even visited the Mother World. My family has wealth and influence that stretches back thousands of years, as far back as Ancient Egypt’s 18th Dynasty.” “Yeah, well the women of the Morgansons’ are descended from an ancient African fertility goddess lost to history!” I might not personally believe in mom’s theory, but right now I’m racking my mind trying to come up with a good comeback as well as paying attention to the actual match. Non-sumos think that the lifestyle and sport is just a bunch of eating and shoving, but there’s a psychological aspect to it too. Menwi raises her nose with a sniff. “Is that so? And if you do win this tournament and become the champion? Then what? Are you willing to represent our colony on the Mother World? Show the sumos of the Sol System just what we wrestlers of the NDC are capable of?” I hesitate for a moment and my body freezes up., That moment is all Menwi needs to use an underarm twisting belt twist that lifts me off my feet and spins me 1800 degrees before throwing me like a 400-pound sack as I sail face first into the ground. I hesitate for a moment and my body freezes up. That moment is all Menwi needs hoist me up. Widening her stance, she turns on her right foot and tosses me face first onto the ground. Groaning and ignoring my new scrapes and cuts on my stomach and chin, I slowly pick myself back off the ground. I think back to when I was younger, when Barbara had come home after a year abroad from her stint as New Douglas Columbia’s Champion and Representative. I remember her describing the green forests and blue oceans of Earth, the vast redness of Mars, the humid but beautiful swamps of Venus. The amazing aquatic scope of Neptune’s oceans. And I remember the many different wrestlers and non-wrestlers she had met along the way and how one day I wanted to become champion and represent New Douglas Columbia just like my big sister. True, the thought of leaving the colony and my family for the first time to go to an actual planet did scare me now that I thought about it. But I wasn’t about to let this arrogant snob of a sumo represent my home either if I had a say in it! Armed with renewed vigor, I bellow out a meaningless cry as I charge at Menwi and tackle her in a low position, knocking her clean off her feet as the two of us go tumbling down. Thankfully, because I land on top of her rather than the ground, I’m still at my two infractions while miss ‘Dohyo Duchess’ is now up to two. That tackle of mine also moved us to closer towards the rings edge. It’s any sumos match at this point, and I am determined that it will be mine. Menwi glares at me. I can tell she’s pissed. Good. An angry sumo is one that makes mistakes (My anger was that ‘righteous’ type of anger. It was!). “You really are a determined little thing, aren’t you?” “I’m a sumo, determination and my mawashi are pretty much all I got.” Menwi somehow manages to make a pout look belligerent as we start to circle each other for a second time. After a first, then second temporary grapple, we separate, both of us backing up. She then gives me another one of those catlike smirks. “You know, besides having the proper credentials for being the champion- having an extensive intergalactic history, looking far better in a gold mawashi than you ever would- I could make it worth you wild if you allow me to take my proper place as New Columbia’s champion.” I stare at her before scrunching my face in confusion. “Oh please, dear. I know my history of prior champions. Your sister was a mediocre wrestler who just happened to compete in years when there were wrestlers even worse than I. Why, if I had been old enough, I could have easily taken her place.” “Is that so?” I say through clenched teeth. My hands are shaking now, not from anger or nerves or stress or strain. No. They’re shaking with rage. I’ll admit, my family isn’t wealthy like Menwi’s seem to be. We aren’t space dust poor mind you, (Yes, even small colonies like ours have at least a small sliver of the population with below income needs), but the Morgansons’ never quite made a big name for themselves wrestling wise or other. A few minor awards here, a few well known unofficial (at least in the bottom heavy community) only tournaments there. But we’re middle of the pack, simple as that. But the fact that this twig of a sumotori had the gall to offer to bribe me did two things to me: 1. It pushed my righteous furry into fully on ‘seething red’ rage. And 2. It told me that deep down, Menwi didn’t think she could beat me. Why else offer to bribe your foe mid-match? Though much as I hate to admit it, I’ve heard rumors about that sort of thing being more common than it should in the colony and elsewhere the galaxy. “What? Is the precious princess afraid of throwing down like a proper sumo?” I shoot back, causing Menwi’s left eye to begin to twitch. “How about we settle finish this as true sumos and let the spirits of our ancestors pass judgment on who’s really worthy here?” Menwi growls. “So be it, cur!” As we both bellow in unison, we collide once more, pushing, slapping, and shoving as our feet continually shift about like the ring is on fire. Bruises start to swell on both of our chests, shoulders, necks, and faces but still we fight on. Menwi throws her head back for a moment before throwing it forward full force. I see stars as I feel my forehead start to bleed. Before she can do anything, I return the favor and smash the forehead of my skull against hers. Although the blood is flowing a little more on my end, I manage to stagger her as she takes a step back. I seize the moment and whip my behind around to face her. My possibly deity blessed ass crashed into Menwi with all the force my thick thighs can muster. I turn my head back and break out into a wide grin as Menwi gasps for air, the wind knocked clean from her lungs, followed by the dull thud of 480 pounds crashing to the ground. Menwi lays outside the ring, moaning as the world no doubt spins around her. It takes all my self-control from bouncing on my butt yoga-ball style in victory right then and there like I’m five again. I turn the crowd and once more stomp the ground with both my legs. I’ve done it! I’ve won my first match and I’m that much closer to following in Barbara's footsteps! Dosukoi! (Bob here, sorry this part turned out as wonky as it did formating wise, still figuring out how to copy and past what I've got from my word doc into Curvage forum's formatting. Release it as is since it's late on my end but will do my best to make sure things are better formated for future Curvage submissions. if anyone has any tips, please let me know. )

Hello Curvage! I’m MozzarellaStickLover and I’m new to Curvage! I’m currently in a relationship with a feeder boyfriend and we have decided for me to gain weight and share our journey with the world! So I thought I would show you all the journey and progress I have made so far! My first photo is of me at the beginning of all of this! My second photo is of me at the beginning of the major weight gain for my boyfriend! The last three photos are of me currently in a new pair of jeans! Hope you all enjoy the photos and are excited about my journey! -M

You must see this beauty.

Just a spicy iteration of some topic I've found on F.F. . How does it feel getting involved deeper and deeper into heavy territory, going from one initial size to overweight to obese territory?

Mal Monsieur (aka MrWrong) is my name, BBW Noir is my game. This is a new story featuring my chubby chasing private detective Shiva Shapiro. DA was my primary venue though that's gonna change now that it sucks, and this is my first time cross-posting here. If you want to check out my other Shiva stories however, DA is where they live, https://www.deviantart.com/mrwrong1. This is story #7 featuring Shiva though it can be read by itself, no backstory needed. First chapter is a little low-key but it doesn't stay that way. Finally, vis a vis DeviantArt's "Eclipse" debacle (the irony...): if anyone is aware of any good places to post fatfic/WGlit/etc (besides here), let me know. Thanks for reading. --------------- The Big Break (1) I once found a hundred dollar bill on Hollywood Boulevard, saw a Silver Surfer on Sunset, met a midget on Melrose, got a blow job on Beverly, and divorced my (first) wife on Wilshire. But nothing good ever happened to me on Olympic, except maybe avoiding some bad traffic on the westbound 10. Then again, I couldn’t remember anything bad happening on that boulevard either. Til tonight. Why didn’t I take Pico instead? | Hey babe - bad news I took a deep breath and waited for the first red light to respond to her text. | What’s up? | Can’t come Sat | How come? | Car died, my brother is supposed to come fix it Sunday | Can’t borrow your mom’s? | She might need it | I’ll come out there My erstwhile boo Luz was out in Riverside temporarily, taking care of her jilted mom. However it was going on six weeks since she and her son Lance had left their place in Boyle Heights and the arrangement seemed less temporary by the day. We kept in touch twenty-first century-style, Zooming, texting, and sometimes sexting, but there always seemed to be an excuse for us not to get together in the flesh. I was desperate to give her the benefit of the doubt but after 25 years as a private investigator I had more bullshit expertise than a manure salesman, and what I was smelling from her wasn’t mulch. The dots danced for a little while and then stopped and bad vibes settled over me like a gift blanket from Lord Amherst. The phone buzzed ten seconds later, Luz on the line. “Hey.” “Hey.” The light went green and I looked for a place to pull over. I took my first option, a Jack in the Box drive-thru, and parked behind the dumpsters. “Shiva…” she began, and the catch in her throat was the only spoiler I needed to know how this particular movie was going to end. I wanted to let her off the hook, tell her I understood. Sure, Luz was on the plus side of 250 pounds and thus a little too much woman for most guys, but she was also smart, funny, cool, and objectively beautiful, not to mention fifteen years my junior. I knew damn well a guy like me wasn’t supposed to have a Luz in his life, and even from first flirt there was a part of me that had been waiting for the universe to balance itself out again. I just didn’t think it would happen over the phone, in a Jack in the Box parking lot. “It’s cool,” I told her. “Trust me, I get it.” “It’s not you, I swear.” “That’s nice of you to say.” “It’s just, you know, Lance needs my attention right now, and getting kicked out of our apartment…” “Wait — what?” I patted my shirt pocket for cigarettes, though I hadn’t smoked since Friends was still airing new episodes. “Shiva —” “I thought you were out there because your dad split on your mom.” “That part was true,” she said. “But Lance and I were also being evicted. I told you the bookstore had been cutting my hours, I was broke.” “Jesus Luz, I would have given you the money…” “I’m not some loser who leans on her boyfriend for rent money, Shiva.” “Yet this isn’t really about rent money, right?” “No, it’s not,” she sighed. “I needed a re-boot, Shiva. I want to go back to college, I want to be there for Lance. I want better, and I can’t get do it in the city, it’s too hard there now.” Light rain was falling, the lights of Olympic Boulevard behind me shining like multicolored confetti in the droplets on my windshield. “We’re talking about Los Angeles, Luz. It’s never been easy.” “I thought we could make it work long-distance.” “Til what, I moved out to Riverside?” “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “Yeah, maybe.” “I’m a 49-year-old private detective who didn’t even finish high school. What the hell am I gonna do out there, be a greeter at Target?” “Target doesn’t have greeters — that’s Walmart.” “Like I said, I get it,” I told her. “You’re a great person, Luz. And you do deserve better, in all ways.” She was crying now, and though I wasn’t sure she should feel worse than me at that moment, there we were. “You okay?” I asked. “Yeah,” she sniffed. “So is this it?” “That appears to be the case.” “You’re making it too easy.” “Want it harder?” She laughed, sobbed, recovered. “Please take care of yourself, Shiva,” she said. “You deserve better too.” “Say hi to Lance, I’m sure he’ll miss me.” She snorted out a laugh. Both of us knew he’d miss me like a fungal infection. “Goodbye Shiva.” “Bye Luz.” I don’t actually remember leaving Jack in the Box but a few minutes later I blew the light at Crenshaw and nearly wound up replacing the hood ornament on a white Lincoln Navigator. It wasn’t the first time I’d blacked out behind the wheel but certainly the first time I’d done so while sober. Horns blared from all directions as the Lincoln’s driver rolled down his window to give me a well-deserved verbal mauling. “M-m-m-motherfucker wh-wha-what the fu-fu-fuck are you do-do-doing!?” His stutter was the least of his problems. A light-skinned black man in a white doo-rag, he was ugly on a mythological level, all caveman brow and cinderblock chin with razor bumps like ski moguls across both cheeks. “Re-Re-Re-relax, asshole!” I yelled back. “Take a deep breath and count to ten. We’ll talk next week when you’re at eight.” I knew I was in the wrong but this was the United States of America so why let that stop me? I gave him a one-finger salute, made a three-point turn into the eastbound lane and drove on, now fully conscious, for better or worse.

You know what to do! Let me know if you liked these questions, or if you have any questions you'd like asked!

Hello everyone! It's time to make an official thread I'll post pictures, content previews, daily updates and more.. I also would like to post daily thoughts and experiences on here. Explore my mind, quirky sense of humor and body alike. Join me on my journey of sensual self love and body positivity. I've come to notice that I deeply enjoy content creating, interacting and learning.

Do you like fat Latina and Latina women?

Feeling extra cute in my sexy nightwear 😍

Hey! I go by Ellie. Im an SSBBW from Ky Excited to get back on the forums

My ankles are swollen. My knees and back are both saying “wwwtttfffff are you doing to us???”…. I know I say this quite often - but this time I’d be willing to bet something really big (other than my gut) on the fact that I am the HEAVIEST I have ever been in my life. I keep promising myself I’m going to start exercising….eating right…drinking more water ….and every day the “plan” is to start TOMORROW!!! 🤣😂 I was trying to motivate myself earlier to get started so I pulled up my security cameras around the house hoping to get a better idea of what I truly look like while doing things like getting out of my car, yard work (the very minimal amount that I actually do), walking outside, etc… I am astonished to put it lightly! I am sooooo much bigger than what I envision myself to look like every day!!! (Is that normal?!). My gut is GIGANTIC and hangs sooooo low. I started question when and how I’ve gotten THIS OBESE..🐷🐷 and there it was - the next clip showing the doordash guy delivering me a whole box of donuts, 🍩🍩🍩🍩2 cinnamon rolls, a muffin loaded with butter and a breakfast sandwich 🤯🍩🍩🍩 (serving 1 person, take a look at the size of the bag!!!) so now what?!!

I wanted to make a different kind of story. Instead of a narrative that is told through paragraphs and sentences, I decided to tell a story through a text message thread. This is the story of Mike and Sasha, who just matched on Tinder. They already exchanged pleasantries on the app, so that's why they're so direct via text. I tried to make it look somewhat realistic. I used Photoshop to make it look like they're texting back and forth. Please give it a chance. And I hope you enjoy it!

Hi everyone!! Just wanted to share some new photos I took! I bought myself a sailor moon outfit yesterday and I’m obsessed. Would any of you like to see sailor moon sexy cosplay?! Love, Tiffany

Looking for a sexy big girl who wants to play with me beheh

We pass eachother on the street …what’s the first thing that goes through your head - 🤔🤔🤔 👶🏻👶🏻 PREGNANT OR OBESE???? 🐽🐷

Kinda alt, ssbbw looking for a feeder. Id like to get to know someone, male, plus if you have tattoos 😍

A lot of people liked my other poll, so I thought it would be fun to do another! This allows us models to better know what you want out of your content! ☺️ Thanks in advance for your time! ❤️

Ladies As a plus size woman I absolutely love getting waxed! At first I was really scared. I'd love to know if any of you get your bikini area waxed, if so which style do you go for? If you don't, why not? Would you consider getting waxed? I would love your feedback on this 😘

Looking for a feeder, hopefully someone I can meet up with in the future, I’m American so I hope show me bed I meet is in country, I tend to run into a lot of foreigners and I can’t have my belly rubbed from thousands of miles away! 🦥💦 But I’m local to Cali, and born in NC, 20 years old been gaining for 8 years and looking for spontaneous fun and feeder play too! so if you’re intreated my Kik is thighrolls, a way of contact!.