- Joined
- Dec 30, 2014
He admits that his slow-motion suicide turned him on up until his hospitalization, and right now is considering weight loss surgery. It would be kind of 
had he not reblogged this before posting that.
had he not reblogged this before posting that.On Purpose: How can death turn you on?
This post is targeted specifically at those interested in weight gain, fat admiration, and/or encouragement. This post is not gay specific. It is the sixth in a series of columns I will be writing with advice based on my experience in the gay male weight gain community called “On Purpose”. Leave comments or message me with your thoughts and questions. Thanks for reading.
When I was 16 I was “seeing” a guy on Yahoo! Instant Messenger. For some reason I was drawn to this person, and even though I didn’t treat him very well due to my internalized homophobia he continued to correspond with me for many years. This was, for all intents and purposes, my first boyfriend. At one point during one of these conversations when we were getting kinky he off-handedly messaged me that he wanted me to gain so much weight I died. This jarred me, and I immediately logged off, and I left my computer for the night. Most people don’t have a moment like this in their sexual history, but most people aren’t into weight gain. I remember mulling over what he said for weeks. Obviously I knew weight gain the way I wanted it was not healthy, and that eventually if I grew to the size of the men in my fantasies I might die from it.
I want to stop right here to say that I am and I am not a believer of the “HAES” (“healthy at every size”) movement. While I do agree one could be obese and not have any health related issues do to the obesity I also know that this is not always true. While obesity is used as an easy scapegoat sometimes by health professionals it can contribute to many health issues and cause serious complications — sometimes at the snap of a finger. Also the “HAES” idea is counter to a huge part of my sexuality. Because here’s the thing: I was turned on when my internet boyfriend suggested he wanted to feed me bigger until I died. Weight being detrimental to health for whatever reason has always been a part of my kink. I know many of you share this problem. And I say “problem”, because it is a problem.
I don’t think I’m going to solve it today, but let’s try to unpack it a little bit, shall we?
When I was a kid my father used to say people had trouble conceptualizing the universe, because the infinite was too hard for humans who were used to most things having a beginning, middle, and an end. Many popular weight gain scenes from cartoons that mesmerized us in our childhoods end with the characters reaching a point of no return where they literally burst with food. I’ve always seen this moment of explosion as a sort of quasi-orgasm. Naturally, especially with feederism being sexual, this would be the conclusion of the sexual act. I know that this moment of bursting is a popular “orgasm point” in weight gain fiction. It’s a release. The person has literally gained until they could not anymore, and as a result, their body finally gave out. Like the erect penis so overcome by stimulation that it finally reaches a point of release.
Of course this is just one type of fantasy among many. Our good pal @lardfill is the undisputed king of what we deem “dark gainer fiction” (though @xenoxephyr is another master of this genre). We only deem it “dark”, because the limits faced by the gainer are based in realism. For some of us it’s hot to read about someone hitting 1,000 pounds and their heart giving out. Could this release from the mortal coil also be a stand-in for the release of an orgasm? I think it’s more complicated than that. There’s a definite danger in weight gain, and unhealthiness seems to turn some of us on as much as the feeling of fat rolls expanding does.
Could it be that heart problems and breathing problems mean we’re doing it right? Are they just achievements we’ve unlocked on the way to world’s fattest? It’s not really clear why this turns some of us on while driving others into denial. For every story like Lardfill’s or Xenoxephyr’s there’s one where someone happily makes it to a thousand pounds and can still somehow walk and gets their health checked out to find they have an astonishing, boner-limpening zero health problems.
While death is something all humans face it’s something I know I had to contemplate early on. For years now I went back and forth from wondering if I’d be the first immortal person to realizing I wouldn’t make it to 50. When I was 17 and posting on BigGuts.com I discovered for the first time that outsiders were sharing my posts and discussing them. As I have admitted before, this mainly provided me affirmations that I was getting fatter and that I looked humongous, but this was also where I first saw people betting on when I would die. A lot of people guessed I’d be dead by 25. When I was 21 my anxiety and depression from school was working in full force with my sexual addiction helped me to put on about 100 pounds in a year. I began to think about death almost constantly. Of course this could’ve been a side effect of the K2 my friends and I had been smoking at the time, but I was legitimately like a goth staring into the void 24/7. This wasn’t the same as my sexual hunger for health problems and the thought of dying of obesity related issues in gainer fiction.
Usually when we think too much about death our brain works hard until we’re sufficiently distracted once again. During this short period of my life I had to face my demons head on. At the end of this year from Hell my good friend tried to kill himself. He called me while he was driving erratically on a far away highway under the influence of a few dozen Ambien. It was this real experience that shook me to the core and made me want to overcome my Thanatopsis phase.
While I moved on from thinking about death 24/7 I never overcame my stranger kinks. As a few different health problems I actually had to take a long, hard look at myself and learn that I needed to separate fantasy from reality. There was a part of me turned on by my diabetes, but the idea of losing my limbs was scary enough for me to begin to get back on track. I was not actively gaining, but I wasn’t doing anything to get healthier and shed some of my weight. Then I got necrotizing fasciitis and sepsis. While neither of these are diagnoses limited to fat people my weight contributed to complications with both of them. That being said my fat helped stand in as fodder for the necrotizing fasciitis causing it not to spread to my organs as quickly as it would have had I not been overweight. While I won’t go as far as saying “my immense obesity saved my life” I can count myself lucky it had some useless fat to feast on before it made way for my kidneys.
Anyway, my hospitalization last year totally changed me. My sexuality will never be the same. It took me literally have a year to feel comfortable enough to masturbate again and even now my orgasms are not the same. I do not have an overwhelming desire to gain weight any longer. Now health issues in weight gain fiction freak me out and remind me of the traumatic events of last year. I have mentioned this before that I used to wait for that moment. I used to be so sure that eventually something really bad would happen to my health and completely change everything for me. It’s strange that that premonition wasn’t enough to stop me from shooting for 10,000 calories a day back then. But here we are. Here I am. I’m still trying to figure out exactly what to do with myself now sexually now that the rules have changed so much.
But something has become very clear to me and it’s that for years I was suicidal. Not in the conventional “cut my life into pieces, this is my last resort” way, but in the sense that I fully knew where my actions were leading and I kept going. Sexual pleasure is powerful, intoxicating, and it makes us feel like we need to do strange, sometimes terrible things.
Control is so important, and that’s a hard pill to swallow for someone jacking off to the thought of gaining so much fat they can barely breathe. I have no working advice on how to gain control. I’m still struggling with it myself. Facing my mortality helped though I don’t recommend that. I suppose I could recommend listening to yourself when naggy you is pacing across your brain saying “this isn’t going to end well.” As for me, as I continue to recover from my illnesses, I have decided to seriously consider weight loss surgery. Of course this is a hard decision to make for someone who looks in the mirror and is disappointed when they look like they’ve lost weight. But I’ve come to prioritize different things in my life lately over carnal pleasure and my self-image.
Of course that’s what I tell myself. So why do we get turned on by these awful, dark things in the first place? It could be just embracing the reality of our fantasies. It might be (like many kinks involving dark violent shit) derived from humanity’s fascination with the inevitability and mystery of it. It’s possible that it’s just another dish on the pupu platter, and we want to devour the whole thing no matter how much one of the dishes disagrees with our bodies.
This post is targeted specifically at those interested in weight gain, fat admiration, and/or encouragement. This post is not gay specific. It is the sixth in a series of columns I will be writing with advice based on my experience in the gay male weight gain community called “On Purpose”. Leave comments or message me with your thoughts and questions. Thanks for reading.
When I was 16 I was “seeing” a guy on Yahoo! Instant Messenger. For some reason I was drawn to this person, and even though I didn’t treat him very well due to my internalized homophobia he continued to correspond with me for many years. This was, for all intents and purposes, my first boyfriend. At one point during one of these conversations when we were getting kinky he off-handedly messaged me that he wanted me to gain so much weight I died. This jarred me, and I immediately logged off, and I left my computer for the night. Most people don’t have a moment like this in their sexual history, but most people aren’t into weight gain. I remember mulling over what he said for weeks. Obviously I knew weight gain the way I wanted it was not healthy, and that eventually if I grew to the size of the men in my fantasies I might die from it.
I want to stop right here to say that I am and I am not a believer of the “HAES” (“healthy at every size”) movement. While I do agree one could be obese and not have any health related issues do to the obesity I also know that this is not always true. While obesity is used as an easy scapegoat sometimes by health professionals it can contribute to many health issues and cause serious complications — sometimes at the snap of a finger. Also the “HAES” idea is counter to a huge part of my sexuality. Because here’s the thing: I was turned on when my internet boyfriend suggested he wanted to feed me bigger until I died. Weight being detrimental to health for whatever reason has always been a part of my kink. I know many of you share this problem. And I say “problem”, because it is a problem.
I don’t think I’m going to solve it today, but let’s try to unpack it a little bit, shall we?
When I was a kid my father used to say people had trouble conceptualizing the universe, because the infinite was too hard for humans who were used to most things having a beginning, middle, and an end. Many popular weight gain scenes from cartoons that mesmerized us in our childhoods end with the characters reaching a point of no return where they literally burst with food. I’ve always seen this moment of explosion as a sort of quasi-orgasm. Naturally, especially with feederism being sexual, this would be the conclusion of the sexual act. I know that this moment of bursting is a popular “orgasm point” in weight gain fiction. It’s a release. The person has literally gained until they could not anymore, and as a result, their body finally gave out. Like the erect penis so overcome by stimulation that it finally reaches a point of release.
Of course this is just one type of fantasy among many. Our good pal @lardfill is the undisputed king of what we deem “dark gainer fiction” (though @xenoxephyr is another master of this genre). We only deem it “dark”, because the limits faced by the gainer are based in realism. For some of us it’s hot to read about someone hitting 1,000 pounds and their heart giving out. Could this release from the mortal coil also be a stand-in for the release of an orgasm? I think it’s more complicated than that. There’s a definite danger in weight gain, and unhealthiness seems to turn some of us on as much as the feeling of fat rolls expanding does.
Could it be that heart problems and breathing problems mean we’re doing it right? Are they just achievements we’ve unlocked on the way to world’s fattest? It’s not really clear why this turns some of us on while driving others into denial. For every story like Lardfill’s or Xenoxephyr’s there’s one where someone happily makes it to a thousand pounds and can still somehow walk and gets their health checked out to find they have an astonishing, boner-limpening zero health problems.
While death is something all humans face it’s something I know I had to contemplate early on. For years now I went back and forth from wondering if I’d be the first immortal person to realizing I wouldn’t make it to 50. When I was 17 and posting on BigGuts.com I discovered for the first time that outsiders were sharing my posts and discussing them. As I have admitted before, this mainly provided me affirmations that I was getting fatter and that I looked humongous, but this was also where I first saw people betting on when I would die. A lot of people guessed I’d be dead by 25. When I was 21 my anxiety and depression from school was working in full force with my sexual addiction helped me to put on about 100 pounds in a year. I began to think about death almost constantly. Of course this could’ve been a side effect of the K2 my friends and I had been smoking at the time, but I was legitimately like a goth staring into the void 24/7. This wasn’t the same as my sexual hunger for health problems and the thought of dying of obesity related issues in gainer fiction.
Usually when we think too much about death our brain works hard until we’re sufficiently distracted once again. During this short period of my life I had to face my demons head on. At the end of this year from Hell my good friend tried to kill himself. He called me while he was driving erratically on a far away highway under the influence of a few dozen Ambien. It was this real experience that shook me to the core and made me want to overcome my Thanatopsis phase.
While I moved on from thinking about death 24/7 I never overcame my stranger kinks. As a few different health problems I actually had to take a long, hard look at myself and learn that I needed to separate fantasy from reality. There was a part of me turned on by my diabetes, but the idea of losing my limbs was scary enough for me to begin to get back on track. I was not actively gaining, but I wasn’t doing anything to get healthier and shed some of my weight. Then I got necrotizing fasciitis and sepsis. While neither of these are diagnoses limited to fat people my weight contributed to complications with both of them. That being said my fat helped stand in as fodder for the necrotizing fasciitis causing it not to spread to my organs as quickly as it would have had I not been overweight. While I won’t go as far as saying “my immense obesity saved my life” I can count myself lucky it had some useless fat to feast on before it made way for my kidneys.
Anyway, my hospitalization last year totally changed me. My sexuality will never be the same. It took me literally have a year to feel comfortable enough to masturbate again and even now my orgasms are not the same. I do not have an overwhelming desire to gain weight any longer. Now health issues in weight gain fiction freak me out and remind me of the traumatic events of last year. I have mentioned this before that I used to wait for that moment. I used to be so sure that eventually something really bad would happen to my health and completely change everything for me. It’s strange that that premonition wasn’t enough to stop me from shooting for 10,000 calories a day back then. But here we are. Here I am. I’m still trying to figure out exactly what to do with myself now sexually now that the rules have changed so much.
But something has become very clear to me and it’s that for years I was suicidal. Not in the conventional “cut my life into pieces, this is my last resort” way, but in the sense that I fully knew where my actions were leading and I kept going. Sexual pleasure is powerful, intoxicating, and it makes us feel like we need to do strange, sometimes terrible things.
Control is so important, and that’s a hard pill to swallow for someone jacking off to the thought of gaining so much fat they can barely breathe. I have no working advice on how to gain control. I’m still struggling with it myself. Facing my mortality helped though I don’t recommend that. I suppose I could recommend listening to yourself when naggy you is pacing across your brain saying “this isn’t going to end well.” As for me, as I continue to recover from my illnesses, I have decided to seriously consider weight loss surgery. Of course this is a hard decision to make for someone who looks in the mirror and is disappointed when they look like they’ve lost weight. But I’ve come to prioritize different things in my life lately over carnal pleasure and my self-image.
Of course that’s what I tell myself. So why do we get turned on by these awful, dark things in the first place? It could be just embracing the reality of our fantasies. It might be (like many kinks involving dark violent shit) derived from humanity’s fascination with the inevitability and mystery of it. It’s possible that it’s just another dish on the pupu platter, and we want to devour the whole thing no matter how much one of the dishes disagrees with our bodies.
