body

-- the end result --

How will my body turn out? That's something I wonder about a lot. Since there's no way to predict or control fat distribution, there's no way to know how I'll end up looking. You can change how much a person weighs, but you can do very little about the shape they end up as; even if you love a big bubble butt or huge breasts there's no gaurantee I'll end up with them. Alas, you can't force a body to gain weight in some areas and not others. Gaining weight is like drawing a picture blindfolded. You never know how it's going to turn out until it's done. If given my druthers, I'd rather end up really bottom heavy and pear shaped, but I probably won't.. no one can do anything about genetics and I don't think there's any way to direct where fat is accumulated in the body, at least not to any large degree.

There are certain things I do hope for. I'd rather develop saggy rolls all over instead of smooth, firm curves. I'd love to get covered with lumpy cellulite because it looks so cool, but I know that's mainly a genetic thing, too. I don't know whether or not I want stretchmarks, but I've become mostly resigned to the fact that with rapid gain, stretchmarks are pretty much unavoidable and that I'll probably be covered with them. You can teach me to enjoy each new widening scar as a badge of accomplishment. You could even forbid me from applying lotions that would reduce their formation or cause them to fade. I'd love to get really large, dangling upper arms. I'd want to see my knees and elbows disappear under thick, rounded padding. It would be cool if my hands, fingers, and feet became plump. I want to feel the weight of my soft fat pulling on me when I stand. I want to jiggle all over when I move. I like it if my thighs were fat enough to have their own rolls and thick enough to impede walking, forcing me to waddle.

I didn't used to like big, hanging bellies, but my opinion has changed over the years. I've come to like them more than anything else. A huge belly has come to represent for me something like an erogenous zone: skinny women have breasts, hips, butts.. but only very fat women have huge, hanging bellies. It's like a sexual body part that belongs only to the obese. So nowadays I'd love to get a pendulous, swaying belly apron, ideally one that spreads out over my lap while seated, like a thick, warm blanket.. and hangs far down while standing and quivers with every movement. So strange to think of my belly hanging lower than my butt, but I know it'll happen. I want it to happen. The larger and saggier the apron, the better.. honestly, it could never hang low enough. If I could have an apron that hung past my knees without resulting in my being immobile, I'd do it. I'm fascinated by the idea of reaching a point where I would never again be able to look down and see my thighs or crotch no matter how I manipulated my belly, and could only see them by lifting my apron and looking in a mirror. I want to have to frequently beg during my feeding to be given as huge of an apron as possible. I know having a belly that large hanging off me might cause some back pain, but it seems like a fair exchange. I also know that pendulous aprons can very much get in the way, making everything from walking to bathing to sleeping more difficult. But that's a sort of burden I look forward to having; like a constant bondage that is impossible to ignore, I want my fat to interfere and force me to accomodate it.

I adore the idea of becoming virtually shapeless-- to have no figure at all. I love to look at the curvy, shapely bbw's--I wish I was one--but it's the supersized, shapelessly sagging ones that I envy. If by some chance I ended up looking good and sensually curvy at around 300 lbs and wanted to stay there.. well, as much as I like the thought of being curvy and sexy, I like more the idea of having to keep growing beyond the stage of lush overabundance and into utter shapelessness. Not a plump girl's body, but a fat, older woman's body. No shapely, curves or even the hint of a figure, just heavy rolls of blubber and expanses of pale, stretchmarked skin. No hips, no waistline, no prominent bust, only folds and rolls. A squishy body completely at the mercy of gravity. To look in the mirror and see fat hanging off every inch of my body. It's so cool to know that even if I did lose a lot of the weight, my flesh would be so stretched out I could never again have any semblance of a figure. You could even have me lose weight for that reason (have me balloon up extra-large and then intentionally lose weight so that my skin would become stretched out and saggy, perhaps even repeatedly), and my formerly smooth, firm skin would become like a stretched out, baggy old pair of hose that has lost its elasticity. The best sagginess, though, seems to come from age and from many years spent being supersized. That could be something to look forward to as I grew older... even after I stopped gaining, my body would continue to gradually transform around me due to time and gravity.

It's like, perhaps the fewer distinct, sexual characteristics I have, the better.. since I'm not supposed to become a sex object but a fat object. I would be a fatslave and my body should represent that fact. Fat will take over my body until all anyone sees is a waddling sack of lard who has no control over her appetite. The only people interested in me at that point will be the most extreme of fat fetishists, and those will be interested only in my fat and want me to stay that way. I do wish I could have large, pendulous breasts, but I know that my breasts will remain relatively small. In some way, small breasts might be preferable, since it will add to my shapelessness if my breasts were barely distinguishable from any other fat roll. Chances are that I'll be front-heavy, with my belly being more prominent than my butt. I'd prefer having a round, pearish bubble-butt, but due to the amount of sitting I'll be doing, I'll most likely develop a broad, pressure-flattened, saddle-baggy ass--the type of butt that is designed for sitting on rather than being looked at. I'm coming to accept that as a probable inevitibility, so I should look forward to acquiring that instead of wishing for something else. Another aspect I used to find undesirable but have since come to accept is back fat. I now anticipate having my back fill out into a thick layer of fat with deep rolls. Even though I wouldn't be able to have the pleasure of touching it or really even seeing it, I would have to be thankful it was adding many pounds to my total weight and roundness. It's also quite erotic to think of my feeder wanting me to develope a round, fat face, with my facial features became hidden beneath a soft, sagging mask. I used to be afraid of acquiring a fat face, but now I've come to desire to see my face grow round and plump and framed with fat. Not to mention getting a hanging double chin that I'll feel jiggle and quiver everytime I eat or speak.

Whatever shape I end up as, I'll have to accept my new body even if it's not shaped the way I had always fantasized about... there would be no going back. The end result will be have to be discovered by both me and my feeder. However I end up, pretty or plain, curvy or shapeless, round or saggy, it will be the body I was always meant to have. Whatever shape I acquire, appealing or not, I know I'll have no choice but to see in the mirror for the rest of my life.

I think about ultimately reaching a size where my own girth denies me access to some parts of my body. I like the idea of being so large that large parts of my own body have become forever out of reach. Ironic that once my body became a squishy, sensual playground, I would no longer be able to touch and explore it all at will. Like if the fat of my arms, the girth of my back, and the wideness of my rear prevents me from being able to reach all of my fat butt.. only being to rub and squeeze its top and sides. Or having an apron large enough to prevent me from reaching the hidden underside of it. With a large enough belly, I'd have difficulty pleasuring myself.. my own fat body would be its own chastity device and my only release would have to be the oral fixation of eating, making food all the more important in my life. I used to be worried by this, but I'm growing to accept that it may well be unavoidable once I begin to reach a certain size. Tell me that it's something to look forward to. Tell me how great it will be to have that ability taken away from me by my fat, what a wonderful stage in my deepening, lifelong submission to feeding it would be. Make me as to sacrifice it as a fatslave. Make me beg for it to happen. It'd be nice to start having difficulty reaching myself and still have to keep growing even though, with every month that passes, my fat will make it ever more difficult. I can picture how, at first, my fat apron spreading across my lap will prevent me from touching myself while seated (which would be most of the time), so I could only do it on my back or my side. Then, as I continued to gain, even that would take more and more effort. Finally, I'll gain those few pounds in the right places that'll make it impossible. I might be relieved if I was still be able to reach myself when I hit your weight goal for me, so you might have me keep gaining more just to make sure I was forever out of reach. I would either have to depend solely on my feeder for pleasure, or have nothing at all. I might still be able to use toys for stimulation, but it wouldn't be quite the same or as satisfying. I would still have free access to my breasts, but that might just make things worse. I'm sure it will be incredibly frustrating at first, at times desperately trying to reach myself, but I'll eventually stop trying and forget just what it felt like to be able to touch myself down there. After enough time passed, I would probably get used to it and the need would fade away. The truth is, I'm still a virgin, and I have a fantasy that I might get large enough that the physical act of sex is all but impossible and the fat you put on me will force me to remain a virgin for the rest of my life. In this instance, having a plutonic feeder relationship would be ideal, since you wouldn't want sex from me, at least not genital sex, and you would be making sure that no one else would want to, either. My only intimacy would be from being fed. To extend a metaphor, my mouth would become a sexual organ.. my fatslave mouth an oral version of a vagina, useful only for penetration by food, impregnating the womb of my belly with more potential fat. You would have taken the possibility of any normal kind of sex from me and replaced any lovers I might have had with fat and made having a mouth and belly crammed full of food the closest thing I'd ever have to sex. I'd know from the beginning that this would be a possibility, but would be helpless to stop this fat-enforced celibacy as it became an inexorably approaching reality. What a wonderful thought.

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