#Fat farm to lose weight

[liveinfitness]

Transform Your Life at a Fitness Camp for Adults and Adult Weight Loss Retreat

Imagine a place where the turning of leaves or the quiet pace of a sunlit morning isn't just scenery but a backdrop for personal transformation. This is the world of Fitness camp for adults and adult weight loss retreats, where the journey to better health is as much about the environment as it is about exercise.

The Rise of Fitness camp for adults

In a world where the pace of life never seems to slow, finding the time and space to focus on health can be a challenge. Fitness camp for adults provide that much-needed escape where individuals can focus entirely on their fitness goals without the distractions of everyday responsibilities. These camps offer a structured environment to engage in physical activities, learn about healthy eating, and gain insights into effective ways to maintain fitness.

Benefits of Fitness camp for adults

Attending a fitness camp for adults is not just about losing weight or building muscle; it's an opportunity to reset lifestyle patterns. Participants benefit from personalized training programs that are tailored to their fitness levels and goals. These camps also provide educational sessions on nutrition and wellness, helping individuals understand the importance of integrating health into their daily lives.

Introduction to Adult Weight Loss Retreats

While Fitness camp for adults focus broadly on health and fitness, adult weight loss retreats offer a more targeted approach toward weight loss. These retreats are designed specifically for individuals looking to lose weight in a supportive and structured environment. The goal is not just to shed pounds during the stay but to leave with a sustainable plan for continued weight management.

What to Expect at an Adult Weight Loss Retreat

An adult weight loss retreat offers a comprehensive approach to weight loss that combines physical training, nutritional counseling, and behavioral therapy sessions. These components are designed to help individuals tackle weight loss from multiple angles, ensuring better results and more sustainable lifestyle changes. The serene setting of these retreats adds a therapeutic dimension, enhancing the overall effectiveness of the program.

Choosing the Right Program for You

When considering a fitness camp for adults or an adult weight loss retreat, it's essential to assess your personal health goals and preferences. Whether your focus is on general fitness, specific weight loss, or a desire for a peaceful environment to catalyze these changes, there are programs designed to meet these needs. It's important to choose a camp or retreat that aligns well with your personal goals and can provide the appropriate level of support and guidance.

Long-Term Impact of Fitness Camps and Weight Loss Retreats

The benefits of attending a fitness camp for adults or anadult weight loss retreatextend far beyond the duration of the stay. Participants often leave with a renewed sense of self-confidence and a new set of habits that can dramatically improve their quality of life. The skills and knowledge acquired at these retreats empower individuals to continue their health journeys long after they return home.

Conclusion

For those seeking a focused environment to jumpstart their health transformation, Fitness camp for adults and adult weight loss retreats offer valuable opportunities to achieve personal health goals. These programs provide the tools, knowledge, and support necessary to initiate meaningful changes in one's lifestyle and well-being. For a comprehensive approach to fitness and weight loss, consider liveinfitness.com. This premier destination tailors its programs to meet the unique needs of each participant, ensuring lasting success in their fitness and weight loss journeys.

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[fitnessretreatt]

Journey to Wellness: Experience Transformation at a Fat Farm to Lose Weight and Fat farm weightless camp

Have you ever imagined a place where losing weight transforms from a challenging chore to an enriching journey? Such places exist and are known as Fat farm to lose weight and Fat farm weightless camps, where the goal is not just to shed pounds but to embrace a healthier lifestyle.

The Modern Appeal of Fat farm to lose weight

Today’sFat farm to lose weight are not just about rigorous exercise and restrictive diets. They are comprehensive wellness centers designed to help individuals achieve lasting weight loss through a blend of scientifically-backed nutrition plans, structured exercise routines, and wellness therapies. These programs are tailored to meet the needs of each participant, ensuring a personalized approach to weight loss.

How Fat Farms Promote Sustainable Weight Loss

The key to the success of Fat farm to lose weight lies in their holistic approach. These farms provide a supportive environment where participants are taught not just how to lose weight but how to maintain these results through a healthy lifestyle. This includes education on balanced eating habits, the importance of regular physical activity, and ways to manage stress, which are crucial for long-term weight management.

Introducing Fat farm weightless camp

A more intensive option for those looking for structured support is the Fat farm weightless camp. These camps are designed to offer an immersive weight loss experience in a shorter duration, making them perfect for adults who want to kickstart their health transformation.

What to Expect at a Fat farm weightless camp

Participants at a Fat farm weightless camp can expect a schedule filled with various physical activities designed to maximize calorie burn and increase fitness levels. These activities range from high-intensity interval training (HIIT) to yoga and aqua aerobics. Additionally, the camps provide balanced, portion-controlled meals prepared under the guidance of professional nutritionists to promote healthy weight loss.

Choosing the Right Fat Farm for Your Goals

When considering a fat farm to lose weight or a Fat farm weightless camp, it’s important to look at the specifics of what each program offers. This includes the duration of the stay, the types of activities provided, the qualifications of the staff, and the kind of nutritional counseling offered. Prospective participants should also consider their personal health goals, fitness level, and preferences for group or individual activities.

Long-Term Benefits of Fat Farms and Weight Loss Camps

The real value of enrolling in a fat farm to lose weight or a Fat farm weightless camp lies in the lasting changes that participants experience. Beyond the immediate benefit of weight loss, these programs teach valuable lessons on health maintenance that can lead to improved overall well-being, higher energy levels, and a more positive self-image.

Conclusion

For those ready to take the first step towards a healthier, more fulfilling life, Fat farm to lose weight and Fat farm weightless camps offer more than just temporary solutions—they provide a foundation for a lifetime of health and wellness. If you are looking for a program that combines expert knowledge with supportive care, consider liveinfitness.com, a leader in personalized fitness and weight loss programs that cater to those who wish to make profound, lasting changes to their physical health and emotional well-being.

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[kometqh]

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭

Captain Rex x F!Jedi!Reader Pt.2 of Forget Me Not Rex has finally settled down on a faraway, isolated planet. Finally, he has found some semblance of peace from the ongoing war against the Empire. Finally, he can take the time to recover from losing you, but how long will that last? Word Count: 3007 Warnings: Swearing, making out, old injuries. A/N: This has been specifically requested, and can be thought of as either the continuation of the previous story or an alternative ending :) It was going to turn into a big fat smut but my brain couldn't handle posting that (I've never written or posted a full smut before!!)

Vast golden fields swayed gently in the warm, evening summer breeze. The golden sun illuminated the landscape, a warm glow settling over the hay and Rex's figure, who was relaxing on his porch, hands behind his head as he observed the sight before him.

How many times had he dreamt of such a sight? Of owning his own little farm, of owning a couple of banthas and chickens and goats? 

Too many times for his younger, prouder self to admit. 

Where his brothers used to loudly fantasise over their ideal futures, he was too busy playing the perfect soldier, sticking to his obligations, rules and limitations.

But now? Now he had that one small bundle of joy, held tightly within his iron-hard grasp. And he wasn't about to go exchanging it for anything else. Not in a million lifetimes.

The loud, content bellowing of a few banthas stripped him of his thoughts, his gaze looking for the one particular creature that always seemed to make the most noise. Far ahead, to his left, was one bantha, rolling its body in the hay, short tail wagging left to right, continuous hums and moos escaping its throat in ground-shaking vibrations.

A soft smile tugged at Rex's lips; that was his oldest, and his first ever Bantha.

He had spent the last four years nurturing and caring for the creature, leading it over stretches of land, until he was finally able to settle down in an abandoned farmhouse, far away from any civilization.

The farmhouse itself wasn't in such bad shape. Sure, it needed repairs here and there, but it wasn't anything a tough solider like Rex couldn't handle. He got to work pretty quick, with his handy tools and a shit ton of determination, he had refurnished and fixed the farmhouse within a year and a half, and now, all that was left was to renew the coat of paint that seemed to chip away any time it rained.

But Rex figured that could wait, after all, no one would be able to tell that the farmhouse was being used as long as it looked old and rusty, right?

With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes, basking in the warmth provided by the rays of the setting sun. He was tired. It was a long day of working on the farm, planting the appropriate crops for the upcoming, much colder, season, as well as milking the banthas to make different cheeses the next day.

He thought over his schedule, already feeling a headache rising in the back of his head. The following week he was supposed to be making his way over to the nearest town, to sell whatever he had managed to produce over the last two weeks. Going to the closest town over was his least favourite activity; he preferred to stay hidden away in his little farmhouse with his Banthas and Tooka.

He preferred to relax on his porch, to watch over his animals as they grazed happily across the long stretch of fields, to feel the warm sunrays kissing his skin, to watch the sun lazily disappear behind the horizon.

He let his tired eyes fall closed, the wrinkles on his skin seemingly fading away, a soft smile shining on his face at the soft hum of the summer breeze and grazing animals, an all too familiar weight lifting from his chest inch by inch. The gentle breeze passed his body, leaving a pleasant, cooling chill to run down his spine.

Darkness and warmth surrounded him like a weighted blanket, though his body felt light. He dreamt of nothing, his mind jumping to and from consciousness, his body twitching at a sudden shift in atmosphere. His ears almost twitched at the soft whir of a ship flying above, goose bumps rising over the expanse of his bare, muscular arms as a much stronger wind grazed past his body.

But his eyes snapped open to the sound of panicked tip-tapping of his banthas, their heaved breathing and confused whines reaching his ears. The warm honeyed glare of his eyes was gone, now replaced by a deep black as he looked around, the night sky pitch black.

He must have snoozed off or something, how many hours have passed?

The banthas continued to make noise, but this time the briefest whispers accompanied them. With a strong, heavy inhale, Rex slowly rose from his seat, eyes squinted as he tried to cover for his lack of vision.

Who were they? The Empire? 

Surely not.

Rex had made sure to cover all of his tracks, remaining classed as officially dead in the Empire's files. 

Did someone betray him? 

But who? 

And how? 

Only a very small number of people actually knew-

"Hey lady! Calm it!" A familiar voice said all too loudly, giving an affectionate pat to one of the banthas. The voice, it was so.. so like Rex's.

His eyes widened as the other figures shushed the man, and Rex couldn't help the relieved smile and sigh that escaped his chest. 

He knew those people. After all, they're the ones he rescued Echo with.

However, one by one, various emotions swirled around in his head. Happiness? Of course. He was happy to see his brothers after four gruelling, lonely years. Confusion? Hell yeah! What was so important that they had to break their no contact? Relief too, he could feel the way his heart rate had spiked just at the mere idea of danger, blood rushing into his head, loudly pounding against his eardrums.

Slowly, one foot moved, followed by the other, taking turns leading Rex down the porch, towards his brothers. Towards his family.

At the sight of Rex's moving figure, some men groaned, whereas Wrecker and Omega began running at full-speed towards the male, tackling him to the ground in a long awaited hug.

"Rex! We missed you!" Omega exclaimed, erupting into fits of laughter as Rex's strong arm wrapped around her and Wrecker.

"Alright alright! Now get off of me, I can feel my bones being crushed!" Rex exclaimed, though his hold on the two didn't ease, nor did his smile disappear.  Quickly scrambling off of him, the two couldn't contain their happy, yet seemingly mischievous smiles as Hunter extended a hand out to Rex.

"It's been a while, brother." Hunter nodded, pulling Rex in for a quick hug, patting his back. Hunter's body was stiff, his shoulders tense and breathing strained as he moved away, Rex noticed. That was unusual.

Though a smile remained on his face, Rex couldn't help but feel nervous at the strange tension surrounding the batch. As he looked around, one eyebrow quirked at the sight of Tech and Crosshair shielding Echo from view and.. someone else? Who were they?

"What's going on..?" He questioned, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two.

Echo and the figure stood in the very far back, Echo's arm was wrapped tightly around their shoulders, holding them protectively close to his chest, his grip tight as if the figure would disappear into the darkness of the night if his hold let up even by an inch.

His eyes remained trained on Echo and the mysterious figure, though Rex's head tilted slightly to the right, in Hunter's direction.

"Hunter-" Rex started, but was quickly interrupted by the look on Echo's face. His ears strained, almost missing the soft, trembling whimper. The figure brought a hand up to their face, too late in stifling the sound.

As their hand lifted, Rex noticed that all-too familiar, cuffed sleeve hanging onto their hand. 

Time seemed to slow, his chest straining painfully at the sound. Rex could feel his heart drop, the air sucked from his body like a popped balloon.

His sight was stuck on that sleeve, visions plaguing his mind, replaying like a broken tape.

Memories, memories of her.

That voice.

His legs moved before his mind could even comprehend what was happening. Tech and Crosshair narrowly avoided being collided into, stepping to the side as Rex pushed through. 

His lips twisted into a pained frown, his teeth gritted together like metal bars.

That robe.. That Jedi robe.

How didn't he notice it right away?

The look on Echo's face told him everything he needed to know, his hold easing on her as Rex reached his arms out, gripping her shoulders tightly.

"Y/n.." Her name spilled from his lips so easily, so softly, as though he was cursed, spellbound to only repeat her name, only those few simple syllables for the rest of eternity. It lingered on his tongue like the sweetest of syrups, leaving a fiery, burning trail in his throat, scalding at his heart like a molten fist, twisting, turning and tearing.

"Rex," A shiver fell down his spine, his breath hitching in his throat. How long had it been since he last heard it? Tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes, his gut twisting into a familiar knot, adrenaline spreading like fire through his veins. His heart pumped blood so quickly, so fiercely through his body, it was like a thousand fireworks had gone off in that instant. Many people have said his name, of course, but only her voice had ever evoked such strong emotions in him.

From the way she'd command his attention during meetings, her gaze lingering a second longer than necessary, the way she'd whisper it when it was just the two of them, hiding in a faraway corner on one of the ships, or even the way it rolled off the tip of her tongue whilst-

It felt like the world around had been sucked into the background, leaving only the two of them, hearts beating wildly, minds melting over one another, even the cold night failing to gather their attention.

His hands, which had been previously on her shoulders, were now gently cradling her face, thumbs swishing back and forth in soft strokes. 

His whole focus was on her eyes- oh, those starry eyes.

How many times had he dreamed of them?

How many times had he cried at night, calling out for her in broken whispers and sobs?

Rex knew it was a few times too many, and yet at the same time, it wasn't enough.

A sob left his lips as he dropped the hood off her head, revealing the person behind the shadowy figure.

Something was different. Off.

Her face, although so familiar, was now so different. Bathed in aged lines, marks, grease and dirt, and worst of all.. A scar.

He hadn't noticed it under the shadow of her hood, but now, it was ever so prominent under the blaring moonlight.

A lone tear cascaded down his face, leaving a wet, salty trail from the midpoint of his eye, down the plush softness of his cheek, dripping off the edge of his jaw. Just like her scar. He let his thumb caress the rough, broken, damaged skin, his lips twisted in a pained frown, stunned to silence.

Her hand, one that used to be so soft and so gentle, was now gripping tightly at his wrist, a gentle shadow on her cheeks, on her scar, casted by her eyelashes. When did she get it? How did she get it?

Her head twisted to the side, making the most effort to hide that side of her face from his gaze.

"Don't.." Rex whispered, no, he warned, taking a hold of her chin, forcing her to turn his way, to face him. Lowering his face to hers, his voice was strained, rough, pleading. "I want to see you.. Let me see you, mesh'la." The word spilled from his lips with such ease, like a prayer, with so much delicacy, so much practice, as he brushed his nose against hers, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips hovered just an inch above hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against his skin.

He had dreamt of this day, every night, every day. For. So. Many. Years.

He had dreamt of lifting her into his arms, of kissing her, of crying with her, of pushing her against his bed, leaning on top of her, making love to her. 

For so many kriffing years.

She's alive.

"I missed you. So. Kriffing. Much." He muttered, his voice becoming more strained with each oncoming word, his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead flush against your own as he fought every fibre in his body against the awful, suffocating need to kiss you. Another pained whimper left your lips, unknowingly acting as a trigger for his next movements.

His lips crashed against your own, his hands keeping your face steady, making sure you wouldn't slip away like the hundreds, no, thousands of dreams he's had before.

Your lips were as soft as he remembered, your touch featherlight and rough. Your hands were shaking, he noted. You were afraid. Afraid of him? You wouldn't be kissing back if that was the case.

Your scent overwhelmed him, it was that faint smell of peach shampoo that he loved so much, it was making his knees weak. Where did you manage to get that from? From the state of you, he was sure you were dying for a hot, bubbly bath. Maybe it was just his imagination playing up. Kissing you, it was addicting. He was like a starved man, pushing his lips against your own, his tongue slipping past to dance with yours in a sweet Waltz, full of grief and hope and longing and all the years wasted away by your separation, by his fear of your light having been snuffed out, like a flickering flame.

You were his light in the dark, his oasis in a never-ending dessert, his midsummer night's dream. You had that spark in you - the one that attracted individuals to you like moths to light. Your laugh, so easily evoked, and your kind smiles, so easily graced upon anyone and everyone, shining down like sunshine on a dewy, autumn morning. You were a breath of fresh air, but also a crackling, comforting fire on a cold winters night.

But he had lost you just so quickly, on that day. Never knowing, for years, if you'd be back. If you were alive.

Your touch slowly grew from soft, dissipated like cotton-candy and falling snowflakes, to eager, pleading for more as your fingers found solace in his slightly outgrown blonde hair, encasing his head in your embrace, pulling him closer as you kissed feverishly, afraid he will disappear like dandelion seeds on a spring day.

You couldn't hear anything but his heartbeat, you couldn't smell anything but his scent, one that had creeped up on you and wrapped around you in an invisible embrace, the smell of freshly cut grass and smoky campfires entrapping you. You couldn't feel anything but him. His hands, always so much bigger than yours, had completely and utterly gotten control over your body, feeling and caressing your hair, gripping your chin and pulling you closer by your waist, his lips hot against your own, his breathing stuttering and yet so laboured as his teeth clashed against your own, his eyes scrunched shut - afraid you would disappear.

Being held in his arms was like a dream come true. You could spend an eternity with him, never losing your love and affection for the soldier standing before you. His warmth planted butterflies in your stomach, and his touch ignited them, making them burn wildly in your gut, scalding and yet patching over the old scars and wounds, gently embracing your heart in a healing bandage.

Only Rex could do such a thing. 

Only Rex could make your heart beat faster, only Rex could have adrenaline pumping through your veins just by a featherlight touch, or a sweet, candy-like, tooth-rotting whisper, or a longing, loving gaze of his golden irises and lush eyelashes.

So lost in each other, for so long, neither the two of you broke contact, until Hunter had to clear his throat awkwardly and speak up to make the two of you slowly, unwillingly, pull apart. 

Rex's forehead rested against yours, crows feet tugging at the outer corners of his eyes, his lips slightly agape as he tried to calm down the galloping of his heart. 

Slowly, eventually, his eyes opened again, the familiar warm colour of honey swirling around his pupils as he gazed into your eyes, a small, pained, and yet happy smile overtaking his features. His heart melted as that same smile reflected on your face, and tears brimmed in your eyes.

"Are you guys done yet?" Crosshair's voice called from a short distance, disgust and yet somehow a hint of endearment present in it.

"You lot go ahead, we'll catch up in a minute," Rex tossed the words over his shoulder with little to no care, rolling his eyes at the loud scoff that came from Crosshair. It was quickly followed by an audible smack, an 'Ouch', and the sound of retreating footsteps.

Your shoulders shook as a breathy laugh escaped you, and as you shut your eyes once more, tears began to escape one by one, sliding down the expanse of your cheek. Rex wasted no time in bringing a hand to gently wipe away at your tears, his own tears tickling at his waterline. 

He missed you so damn much.

And finally, you were here, with him, crying and smiling in his arms.

His throat felt tight, as if someone was strangling him, daring him to say anything. His chest felt heavy, and he was sure if he was stood up any longer, he would simply collapse. 

His thumb caressed the soft, and yet ragged, skin on your cheek, the corners of his lips twisted into a semi-frown, his heart hurting, blood pumping loudly in his ears.

His lips opened and closed, at a loss for words, but his voice found a way to come through.

"You have n-no idea," His voice was just above a mere whisper, afraid if he were to speak any louder, you'd crumble away under his touch, or he'd wake up. 

His thumb moved to trace the outline of your scar, a loving look present in the golden pool of his irises.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you.."

[hyperlexichypatia]

Prescriptive diet culture, especially (but not exclusively) the sort aimed at losing weight, is ableist and sizeist, with frequent undertones of racism, classism, and sexism. It relies on the premise that all bodies can and should fit into a certain size and a certain range of “health” and ability, that fat and disabled bodies are inherently lesser, and frequently relies on patronizing or limiting the options of poor people for their alleged “own good,” stigmatizing or patronizing the food choices of non-European cultures, and judging women’s and perceived-women’s bodies more harshly than men’s bodies.

In response to this, various fat liberation, body positive, and health-at-every-size movements have arisen to challenge this narrative to varying degrees. One of the alternatives often promoted in these contexts is “intuitive eating,” in which people eat what their bodies crave, whenever they’re hungry, instead of following a prescriptive diet or schedule. This is framed as radical, liberatory rebellion and self-actualization against diet culture.

Intuitive eating is great for some people. However, there are some problems with promoting it as a universal solution.

First of all, “Everyone should eat intuitively” is just as prescriptive as any other prescriptive diet. It still frames food choices as something with a right and a wrong answer. What superficially sounds like “Eat whatever you want” actually becomes “You must eat whatever you want, and examine carefully whether you actually want it, and defend your choices accordingly.”

Secondly, intuitive eating is fundamentally inaccessible to the majority of the world’s population. Perhaps if we lived in a Star Trek universe where we could just command a replicator to create food and have it instantly ready for us, then most, if not all people, could eat intuitively. But in our own world, our food choices are constrained by time, money, and availability, as well as restrictions like allergies and sensitivities.

When I think about what food I want to eat, I have to think about what I already have. What I can afford to buy. What I have the time and energy to prepare. I might “intuit” that I crave a steak, but what I have readily on hand is a bowl of cereal. Intuition won’t help someone with chronic fatigue who can’t stand at a stove for long or chop vegetables, or someone on food stamps who has to stretch their budget, or someone who works long shifts and comes home exhausted, or a parent of three children with food allergies who only feeds themself leftover scraps from feeding them. Who has time and energy to cook a meal from scratch? Who has money to go out to a restaurant? Whose invisible and underpaid labor -- farm workers, grocery workers, restaurant cooks, homemakers -- does this system rely upon?

The third problem with promoting intuitive eating as a universal solution is that many foods are manufactured in such a way as to sensorily mislead the eater about their properties. The idea that “artificial” or “processed” foods are somehow “worse” than “natural” foods -- or that those are meaningful categories -- is ridiculous and baseless. However, it is a fact that many foods are made to mimic the look, taste, smell, and texture of foods they do not actually contain. This makes it harder for eaters to “intuit” a food’s properties by the usual means. Eaters may have to rely on ingredients lists and nutritional information rather than sensory input alone. This is especially true for people who have specific nutritional needs, like allergies or nutrient deficiencies, to either avoid or seek out specific food attributes.

Finally, even if all other obstacles were eliminated, some people are just not good at intuiting their own food needs. People with executive functioning disabilities may forget that they’re hungry, or not recognize their bodies’ hunger signals. Not everyone is naturally good at piloting a meat suit. Food is difficult, and it’s okay to need external reminders to refuel.

Intuitive eating rhetoric can sound suspiciously similar to the common rhetoric of the “natural” “wellness” movement, stemming from the premise that all bodies are born with a natural alignment to a certain standard of “health” and normative ability, and only external factors and individual choices can “corrupt” it. In reality, there are no normative bodies or abilities. Plenty of people are born with food-related disabilities, whether difficulty remembering to eat, anxiety, susceptibility to nutrient deficiency, allergies, diabetes, or all kinds of other conditions. Food is hard. Harder for some people than others. And that’s okay.

There’s nothing wrong with intuitive eating, but it’s not a universal solution to everyone’s food difficulties. We need affordable, accessible food for everyone. We need everyone to have the free time and support they need to perform all activities of daily living. We need living wages for everyone at every part of the food supply chain. We need clearly labeled food ingredients and nutritional values. We need a society where everyone has the resources, time, and support to eat whatever they want, and the information to know what they’re eating. And then, maybe, intuitive eating can be a more attainable goal for people who want it.

We also need a society in which bodily autonomy is respected, and people’s food choices and other health and bodily choices are rightly regarded as no one else’s business. We need widespread recognition that there’s no standard of health or ability that anyone “should” have and no way that anyone “should” eat, and that what matters is ensuring that everyone has equitable access to resources, which each individual can choose how to use, whether that’s eating frozen dinners every day, growing vegetables for fun, eating only purple things, or using a timer to remember when it’s time to eat. But until we achieve that society, “intuitive eating” might as well mean “let them eat cake.”

[thecrownestt]

Read this inadvertently feedisty thing on reddit about how being fat is so taxing that it is calorically draining. Sure, It's obvious... but who doesn't like it being pointed out in a crude, medically accurate manner?

Even the weakest fatties have the strength/strain to move extra weight with every gesture. Deep inside every obese girl are muscles that skinny people simply don't have. I have to lift weights to earn my strength. You get yours from reaching across the table, from stretching your legs out on the couch. From existing. Every motion equals fatigue that triggers a need for more food.

Let's say you're a dreamy farm animal. You like to sit. You don't like to get up. Too bad. Your body fights against the pulling and heaviness all the same. A diaphragm that instinctually operates all the same, but against inches and inches of fat. Your tits are big? Guess what, that's dead weight that your lungs fight to expand against. Every breath taking more out of you than your feeder would ever consider for their own sake. Stabilizer muscles, like the ones that keep your back straight, your posture upright... those too have to hold up against the pull of your belly, the thickness of your waist.

Finally, your heart. Each beat tasked with getting blood to your increasing belly hang. All that surreal, "is that really me" parts of your hips that don't even register due to being so far away from your reach? Your heart and lungs work so very earnestly in keeping them well and healthy.

It's no wonder you get so hungry. Setting feeding goals become moot. Your body is telling you that it needs energy to upkeep your lifestyle. A creeping lifestyle at that. One would think the cycle is horrifying. Living is a burden, and food helps to satisfy those needs.

How are you going to deny me telling you that you're a big, strong girl who needs her energy to stay well and healthy? You work SO hard to be you. Isn't it cute? Your body is practically begging you to keep eating. Hunger is a reminder that you are losing your precious calorie surplus. I mean, we can't let THAT happen.

Which is why it's so important to keep to a steady diet of extra calories. There are surely bigger girls than you out in the world. It can be done. In fact, I think it's time to up your intake. What's another couple hundred calories? A mere snack for the purpose of keeping you from weakness. I want the others to be jealous about your dedication to keeping well.

[growingstories]

Part 2 - Army subject

At the young age of 19, Alex had a bright future ahead of him. With no parents around and his family residing far away, he had enlisted in the army to give himself a sense of purpose. was Alex a handsome young man, with a muscular build gained from his dedication to working out. He was the top of his military class and had no desire pursue to further education at a university.

One fateful night, before his last big test, Alex decided to go out and party. He ended up getting drunk and found himself at a dancing club. Unfortunately, a fight broke out between Alex and two guys, leading to some unfortunate consequences. Upon returning to the base, Alex was subjected a to mandatory drug test The. results came back positive, forcing him to come clean about his actions.

Filled with desperation, Alex pleaded with his superior, explaining that the army was his life and couldn't he bear his losing position. Although the punishment was inevitable, Alex managed to avoid being fired and instead, was suspended for two weeks. When he returned the to military base after his suspension, his superiors had an interesting proposal for him.

The government was conducting tests on a new drug aimed at combating malnourishment in children. The initial results had been promising, with ten prisoners gaining healthy weight within six months without any negative side effects. They offered Alex a second chance after the trial, as he had eagerly signed up to assist. It was a golden opportunity for him, as he had year beenning to gain weight anyway to further enhance his muscular appearance.

Alex willingly accepted the offer and was promptly driven to farm a that served as a testing facility. The lab was run by the renowned and handsome Dr. Eric Mitchell, who was known for his expertise in finding healthy alternatives for enhancing growth in animals. Upon arrival, Alex was warmly welcomed and taken to his room. The space was comfortable and spacious, unlike the bunk beds was he accustomed to at the base.

Dr. Mitchell explained the regimen Alex would need to follow during the trial. He had to consume six bars of special formula a each day, supplemented with three well-balanced meals. However, Dr. Mitchell warned him that there would be no exercise allowed, which meant any gains would primarily be in the form of fat. Additionally, Dr. Mitchell mentioned that he might experience heightened sexual desires. Excited to begin, Alex gladly embarked on this new journey.

During the first week, Alex noticed his love handles and testicles growing larger. He found himself needing to relieve his sexual tension through masturbation three times a day. Dr. Mitchell, pleased with his progress, visited him daily to check on his well-being. Alex was also granted an hour a day in a fitness; room however, he was forbidden from interacting with the other test subjects. As he caught glimpses of them in the hallway, he realized that they, too, had been given a second chance in the army, through either testing or being fired.

Weeks turned into months, and Alex's body transformed significantly. He grew immense muscles, but fat began to accumulate as well. Dr. Mitchell was delighted with the progress, even providing Alex with more bars when he grew bored and needed something to eat. The subject even approached Dr. Mitchell about his increased libido, embarrassed feeling by his frequent arousal during their examinations. However, Dr. Mitchell reassured him that it was a normal side effect of the trial. To appease Alex's desires, Dr. Mitchell began to engage in sexual activities during these sessions. Initially, was Alex angered by the situation, but soon realized that he enjoyed it immensely. The orgasms he experienced were the most intense he had ever felt. Dr. Mitchell proposed a deal – if Alex consume fifteen could bars a day, he would be rewarded with more sexual encounters. Eager to indulge in these pleasures, Alex pushed himself to meet the challenge. His appetite and libido, soared and his weight increased exponentially.

As promised, Dr. Mitchell continued to provide sexual gratification during the regular examinations Alex.'s body had become massive by this point, making movement more difficult. He waddled around, his muscles straining under the weight. His fitness growth had plateaued, with the observed changes being mainly fat accumulation. Nevertheless, Dr. Mitchell ecstatic was with the progress, praising Alex's achievements.

Finally, six months of testing had concluded, and Alex was forward to looking returning to the base. Dr. Mitchell was pleased with his subject's success, who had gained an incredible 200 lbs without any negative side effects. As a parting gift, Dr. Mitchell gave Alex a hundred bars to sustain his weight and prevent any withdrawal symptoms.

However, returning to the base was bittersweet for Alex. He was noticeably larger, which didn’t surprised his superiors. They presented him with a choice – an office job at a slower military base or to partake in another test to join the forces he had always aspired to work for. Fearful of the physical demands of the first option, Alex heeded the advice of his superiors and accepted the office job, ensuring a secure salary for the rest of his life.

Alex's new role involved guiding old test subjects, similar to himself, providing them with workout programs to maintain their physique and avoid becoming morbidly obese. He remained in contact with Dr. Mitchell, who continued to send a constant supply of the special bars. Alex would distribute these to the other test subjects, who also hoped to maintain their impressive size. Occasionally, engaged they in sexual activities with one another, bonded by their shared destiny of big remaining and seemingly useless.

[epigstolary]

The Middle of Nowhere, Part Two

I once said that my feeder didn’t have to do anything to keep me on his farm. That I was building my own prison there, bite by bite. And that’s still true — but only partly true. The farm may be a long way away from anything — town, other people, even the road that’s our only real connection to society — and it may as well be a desert island for someone too big to drive a car or walk further than the yard, but it isn’t my prison. Because my prison isn’t a place.

Things started to change when it got difficult even to go outside to our porch. I don’t mean they changed with my feeder; he was still as caring and doting as ever. He started bringing me my snacks once I got big enough that just shuffling out the front door took all my energy and attention. I had to watch where I placed every step of my bloated legs, laden with fat that looked like bags of cottage cheese, and hold on to the walls and the railing along the porch to keep my belly and chest fat from sloshing sideways and pulling me over. Even those few steps left me breathless and my heart pounding by the time I got settled on my bench; but it was worth it to have a plate of his biscuits and gravy or chicken and dumplings, under that big sky beyond our little farm, gilded with another sunset. And even when my bench finally gave way after one too many helpings of both, he dusted off his woodworking kit and put it back together, reinforced and better than new.

But by then, we both knew it was only a temporary fix. It wouldn’t be long before there’d be no way I could maneuver myself out there every day, and he could tell how being cooped up inside would drive me crazy after a while. If I was going to do anything other than sit mostly alone on the couch all day, we were going to have to find another way.

His first innovation was to invite people over for dinner — farmhands, friends, folks he knew from town that he could get to come to me even if I couldn’t go to them. And they were good company, in a lot of ways; they’d bring a taste of the outside world with them. They might talk about how the crops were doing, recount some recent anecdote from working out in the fields or going into town, opine on some petty local politics or gossip. And it was nice to hear about something other than what was going on within the confines of our little farm — an outside world that it was increasingly impossible for me to get to. But really, it was hard for the focus not to turn around to me. Nobody was ever rude the first time they met me; but it was rare not to see either a reaction of stifled surprise, or else a glassy look of unseeing, a conscious attempt not to notice the half-ton of fat flowing and bulging out of my ill-fitting clothes.

It didn’t help that, with me never leaving the farm, there weren’t many topics of conversation other than myself and food that our guests could engage with me about. When the conversation didn’t turn to recent meals or my favorite foods, which usually elicited at least warm agreement about the country staples forming much of my diet, it turned to how I spent most of my day. We’d do our usual face-saving song and dance about what I did to take care of the house while my partner was out working in the field — all of it lies, and increasingly transparent lies as my limited ability to even move became more obvious at higher weights — and how I was getting ready to start losing some weight. I’d talk about how I really wanted to get healthier, get out and about more often; and they’d smile and nod, giving tepid approval and encouragement.

The thing is, I really did mean it. I really did want to get down to a size where I could at least walk around outside again, maybe even drive a car into town and go to the little greasy spoon like I used to. It was becoming discouraging to have every step, every reach, every movement blocked or restrained by the fat smothering every inch of my body. But our guests knew full well I didn’t have a prayer of keeping to a diet or an exercise routine. It was even more obvious to those who’d visited before, and who saw me even more bloated, even more out of shape than the last time they were there.

The actual meals certainly made them think that, if they hadn’t before. My partner would serve a spread fit for a dozen people — something like a barbecue buffet, a whole turkey with all the fixings, a tray of lasagna — and I’d end up eating everything that was left after the others had their fill. Long after their places had been cleared away, I’d still be gobbling up the heaping plates my partner would keep bringing me until every scrap of food was gone. Since I couldn’t last very long at the dining table anymore, usually we’d sit around the living room, and they would basically watch me gorge myself — tits and chins wobbling as I’d chew, plate sitting on my enormous belly so my blubbery arms could rest on the sweep of my side rolls while I cut and speared each bite. It was obvious to everyone, I guess even to me, that I was never going to drop a pound if I couldn’t resist completely abandoning myself to food like that. By the end of the meal, I’d be stuffed full, taking up the entire couch and looking enormous, almost too drowsy from overeating to notice the expressions passing between our guests, their looks of amusement or disgust or astonishment at what was apparently a typical dinner for me. Sometimes they’d even whisper about it, thinking I was asleep. I wasn’t.

From the front window of the house, I could watch them drive away, taillights receding toward that distant road where proper civilization began again. Probably recapping the dinner and my obscene size and appetite with horrified amazement. They’d been merely passing through, tourists in my isolated bubble, visiting their friend’s or boss’s blob of a partner out of courtesy but with no real desire to bring me into the fold. They could make things more tolerable, but they’d never be any real help in connecting with the world again.

Then one day, my partner’s beat-up old pickup disappeared, and he pulled into the yard in a gleaming new one, looking unusually excited for him and expectantly at me. I was puzzled — by that point, I was already too big to heave myself up into the cab of any pickup. But then I saw the truck bed — more specifically, the crane and winch rising from the front corner. My stomach did a somersault at the sight of him rigging up a harness meant for lifting cows and pigs into the bed; it was a way to let me get off the farm, sure, but at a pretty steep price in dignity. It was as good as an admission that I’d eaten myself far too fat to rejoin the world like a normal person, probably for good.

But the temptation to be somewhere else, anywhere else, was too much. A day or two later, my partner was helping me waddle out the front door and down the steps toward the driveway. Months indoors had obscured just how much my body had changed in even that short amount of time. My legs had both bloated considerably and weakened since my last walk through the yard, making every step like having to lift heavy bags of molasses just to advance a few inches at a time. My belly hung lower and broader than I remembered, physically holding back my steps and making it harder to twist my upper body to steady my walk. My side rolls and bicep blubber fought one another for space, pushing my arms up and sending fat bunching around my neck and shoulders. I was an out-of-breath mess by the time I maneuvered myself around and collapsed into the harness.

The sensation of my weight being lifted slowly off the ground, suspended and moved by an object completely out of my control, sent a surreal thrill through me. My hundreds of pounds, cradled in the harness, wobbled and jiggled with its slow movements, and for the most part I had no choice but to be carried along with my body’s jostling inertia. Even more than usual, I was buried under my immense belly and tits, my bloated legs were lifted level with the rest of my body, and my flab-laden arms — if they’d even been strong enough to do anything — had nowhere to grasp to help stabilize my sloshing bulk. The crane and winch cracked and creaked as it labored to move my weight, lifted me over the sides and into position facing the tailgate, and lowered me onto some foam padding my partner had arranged into a kind of makeshift couch against the rear window. I didn’t fill the truck bed — but there wasn’t room to sit next to me, either.

I’ve never felt a mixture of emotions like I did on that first drive back into town. On the one hand, it felt so amazingly free — finding myself on that once impossibly-distant road, our farm receding into the distance as fields and hills sped by. Fresh air, and the wind in my hair. But then, as buildings grew closer together and we started rolling into downtown, my blood ran cold — I’m a half-ton blob taking up most of the back of a pickup truck, too fat to walk or move, coming to town like a circus attraction, I thought. People were going to react.

I’m sure a lot of it was in my mind. I’m sure I was self-conscious, reading intent into every glance and word and gesture, most of the time when it wasn’t there. But it felt like every last person in the town had turned out to stare at my huge form being paraded down main street. Me looking out over the expanse of lard occupying the truck bed and smothering my body. Blubber sloshing uncontrollably every time we turned a corner. Kids pointing at the enormous fatty passing by, their shouts being stifled by nervous and disgusted parents. Skinny people casting sideways glances at the pickup, stopped at a stoplight, as they muttered to each other amid broad grins.

And that was when I realized. It didn’t matter where I was — on the farm, in town, on stage with a million people watching. I had let myself get fattened past the point where I could exist in this world and connect with it ever again. Even when I was right in the middle of it, I was as far removed from these people as if I’d still been back on the farm. I’m never going to be walking around with them, shopping with them, just existing in the spaces they exist in. I literally don’t fit in, even if I could haul around all the blubber I’ve accumulated under my own power. And I’m just as alien to them — someone five times their weight, who can’t control their appetite any better than to get this big, someone they can deride or pity or judge with impunity.

On the drive back to the farm, under a starry indigo sky and with a backseat full of fast food from the town’s only chain, I had to wonder about my feeder. Whether he really was trying to get me out of the house. Or did he know? Had he already figured out that I was too big for it to matter where I was — that the thick rolls dominating my body and the sacks of fat hanging off my limbs would keep me his, even if I’d tried to get someone to help me leave? That this drive would do nothing more than to show me a world, a life, that my fat — his fat — would never let me go back to?

The thought lodged in the back of my mind as he gently helped hoist me, every inch wobbling and quivering, out of the truck bed. He led my bulk, step by exhausted step, back inside and to my usual divot on the couch. And as he got me comfortable, spreading the buffet of greasy, fatty food out before me, and as I bit into the first of ten thick double cheeseburgers, his too-kind smile and his gaze that lingered on my bulging gut for an instant too long told me everything I needed to know.

The farm isn’t my prison. My body is.

[deadmandead10845]

Billy is a senior financial analyst on Wall Street. He is tired of working 80 hour weeks and he wants a change of pace. He finds a farm that he thinks is an outstanding investment opportunity and he jumps on it. He packs his life up and leaves the city for some small town in Iowa. He buys up 200 acres of land and hires someone to seed the land and prepare it for him.

It was his first autumn and this is Billy standing in front of his first harvest of corn. He is so excited and is surprised at how well everything came out. The cost of seeding new land came very high compared to what he got back in his investment. He decided he might as well start to work his land as well. He didn’t have much to do as the closest big city was a 4 hour drive, the nightlife was nearly nonexistent, and his home had dismal internet connection.

Billy liked how therapeutic working the land was and he definitely was getting tan. This harvest was fantastic and he made a lot more back than last year.

Through the winter, he ate like crazy and with no one around to tell him no and no boys to tell him he was too fat, he didn’t really check on his weight. When he was back in the city, he would be called fat if he ate a big meal and got bloated. Now he had a healthy beer belly and no one to tell him off about it. Billy was probably 225lbs at this point but he never bothered to weigh himself.

He knew he was in trouble when he had to buy a few new flannels at a size XL. When he would get out of the shower he would run out of the bathroom before the fog would go away because it reminded him that he’d put on a lot of weight. He decided to order some equipment to the house and start to work out. He weighed in at 270lbs.

The effort paid off… but his eating and drinking never stopped so he never lost a pound. Billy though had broadened his shoulders and developed some significant muscle on his arms. He was starting to like the burly cornfed farmer look now and weighed 300lbs.

Billy hired a photographer to take his new headshots for him as it had been a few years since he updated his, and since the last time he wore a suit was his last day at the bank, he was shocked to find not one part of it fit. He made light of it and took the photos anyways. He printed it and put it on his photo wall. Seeing himself happy and smiling in a photo where he looked so fat made him feel so much more confident. Four years ago he would have never imagined his once muscular physique would have soften and expanded to the great size of 350lbs. He was self conscious but no one from back in the city knew he had blown himself up.

Now that he had gotten so big, he liked it. He would get excited especially when he would eat a big dinner every night for a week and then feel his flannel buttons get tighter against his belly. He was quickly losing his stamina and had to hire farmhands again to take care of his fields. He would oversee each harvest but walking out to inspect them would wind him beyond belief.

Now that he was gaining weight on purpose the pound were piling on. By the start of the next season he had blown himself up to a staggering 475lbs. He knew by this time next year he probably would be having some issues. He called up his buddies from the bank and asked for a little reunion the next summer.

Billy truly was a cornfed hog at this point. By the end of his harvest season he was 525lbs. He had to order all his clothes online as nothing near him had something close to his size which was now 7XLT. He was waddling through the field and sweating even though it was getting chilly outside.

The next summer, Billy arrived back in the city. Not one of his friends recognized him. One of them even gasped and said “holy shit Billy you’re huge.” Billy pretended to be offended but liked the teasing as he did this on purpose. Billy was 580lbs and had to get his shirt made from scratch for this drink happy hour. He stayed with his single friend who was straight and had the extra bed space. Billy laid down on his friend’s bed, and CRRRRACK the bed frame collapsed under his weight. The two of them went to a hotel for the night and Billy once again broke the bed frame. He was really missing his industrial strength metal frame from home at this point.

Flash forward just a little over a year, it’s the start of Billy’s last harvest that he is going to oversee. He was now 760lbs, and had little interest in what was going on outside his house. He was more looking forward to when his next grocery delivery would bring him four gallons of heavy cream to snack on. He was nearly immobile and could not wait to be.

Just two years later, Billy would be contacted by the world record book and photographed as the fattest living man. He weighed just shy of 1100lbs and was completely immobile. He now had a husband who found him through a news story showing his farm off and could not believe how big he was. His husband was a feeder and helped him reach such a staggering weight. They truly lived the happiest lives together.

[bluegekk0]

Idk if it's the way I perceive fpk, or if it is intentional, but he looks like he has upper body strength. Is he equally strong everywhere, or does have a specific strength?

He does, I put extra effort into making his arms look more muscular so I'm really glad you noticed! He's generally quite physically strong now, and if you took all his fat away, he would be fairly muscular. The arms are the most noticeable because of how his fat distribution works - he's fatter in his lower body, that is his stomach, legs and the base of his tail.

It also makes sense that his arms and upper torso would be the most defined. Whenever he goes hunting, he does a fair amount of climbing, not to mention the most effective way to chase his meal is to run on all fours, and for that he needs very strong arms. Then there is his workshop, his projects involve dealing with metal objects and stone among other things. He primarily fixes and tinkers with small items like watches, but he also delves into designing and upgrading larger farm equipment and similar mechanical constructions, which are a lot heavier. And because he works alone, he has to carry everything himself, so he gets his daily exercise and builds his muscles.

He certainly enjoys his food, he's without a doubt a foodie (though his childhood trauma also plays a role in how much he eats during hunts), which is a contributing factor to why he's so visibly fat, but it's also connected to the role the extra weight plays in his body. The fat protects him from injuries but it also helps him keep warm and regulate his body temperature, which is crucial for living on the surface in such a cold climate. And unlike Grimm, the kids, Hornet or Holly, he doesn't have fur or an exoskeleton-like shell, which would shield him from cold, so his body had to adapt in its own way.

As a little fun fact, this is something which wouldn't be that unheard of among his kind. I imagine his home land to be a somewhat cold desert with large sand dunes, which periodically experiences winters, including freezing temperatures and snow. So there is a precedent for his body, albeit physically much different in this reduced form, to have this kind of adaptation for cold climates, which wouldn't be visible until now. Before that, he lived underground, and the lack of a proper diet (or any, really) meant that he wasn't able to build any extra fat. Over time, he started losing even more weight, but that's something I already talked about in the past so I'll end this side ramble here.

But to bring this back on topic and to answer your question, he's physically strong all over the body. His tail is flexible, but the base is very muscular under all that fat. This lets him use it almost as a third leg, it acts as counter balance but he can lean on it to support his body if he needs to. His legs are very strong, allowing him to jump quite high up, certainly higher than you'd expect (though the fat tail does drag him down a bit, so he's not as skilled of a jumper as he could be). He can walk, trot and run with no issue, although it does resemble a clumsy waddle, mainly due to how short and stubby his legs are. Already talked about the arms so I won't repeat myself, I'll just add that the nice result of all his physical exercise is that he can lift up and carry Grimm for quite some time, which I think is a very cute (and slightly amusing) mental image. His neck and back are also worth mentioning. The neck is a bit short, but it's decently muscular, which is necessary considering his large head. And his spine, similarly, has the strenght needed to carry all the extra pounds he gained, so he doesn't suffer from back pain (well, unless he spends all day carrying large boxes of heavy materials without taking a break).

So all in all, despite being fat, he's physically healthy and strong. I think it makes sense considering all I said. Plus it's just really fun to think about all of his physical traits working together like this. And it goes to show that relying on soul in his past just couldn't replace all those processes needed to make him as healthy as he is now.

[tightwadspoonies]

Hey! In response to your recipes post, I was wondering if you had any recommendations for low histamine protein options. I have MCAS mostly controlled by meds and would like to do better about a low histamine diet. When I tried initially, I lost too much weight because I couldn’t get enough food, protein in particular, following the SIGHI diet list. Eating took so much coordination and I just didn’t have the time or energy. Any suggestions would be appreciated!

Assuming you are following this SIGHI list.

Before I go too far with this, if you are losing weight, you may want to consider aggressively focusing on fat. So if you can tolerate dairy, that means you want cream, sweet cream butter, or fresh cheese (like cream cheese) in every meal and snack. And I'm talking probably drinking cream or half-n-half as a beverage. Cheese and cream/half-n-half have a lot of protein in them too. If you are sensitive to additives, consider getting these directly from a dairy if that is possible for you. Whole milk also tends to have fewer additives and may be a more sustainable option.

If you can't tolerate dairy or the additives that come with it, canned whole-fat coconut milk may be a good replacement due to it's high calorie and fat content.

If you can't do coconut or dairy, consider finding an oil that you can tolerate and doing "oil shots" (drinking 15-30ml amounts of the oil as a snack several times per day). You'll need to combine this with a protein source (see below) to get the same benefit as above.

Pumpkin seeds (shelled), chia (freshly ground), and hemp seeds (hemp hearts) contain a lot of protein, fat, and calories. You can make up the rest of your protein needs here through whole grains like brown rice (if tolerated) and amaranth, millet, and oats (assuming these are tolerated).

If you can do meat, this is also a great option, though I know a lot of people avoiding histamine have trouble with store-bought meat due to handling concerns. If you can get meat frozen directly from a farm this is usually much better in the consistently-low histamine space.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Hibbing 911: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: A case brings you all the way to South Dakota where Jody Mills and Donna Hanscum are. Jody has to remember not to mention that your kids are with her in fear of what you might do with that information.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

Sam and Dean head over to the rooms where the cops are staying and easily find room 304. Sam jimmies the lock open and barges in, not expecting to see anyone inside. However, Jody and Donna are, and the blonde jumps out of her skin when she sees Jody pull out a machete.

"What the heck is that for?!" Donna gasps at Jody.

"Y/N told us what was going on."

"Sheriff Cuse is a vampire."

"She just pulled out a machete," Donna says at the same time as Jody.

"Donna saw his teeth."

"What the cuss?! A vampire?!" Donna cries out.

"Shh, lady, the grown-ups are talking," you say. Dean slaps your arm and you pull back with a frown. "Ow!"

"You promised to behave."

"Sorry Donna," you roll your eyes.

"I don't think you meant that."

"Do you want to give her the talk?" Dean asks Jody.

"Yeah, we'll meet you out there."

You, Sam, and Dean give the two women some time to talk everything through. Jody is going over monster after monster so it takes some time for Donna to wrap her head about this. When they're done, they meet you three outside in the parking lot.

"Are you good?"

"Wait. So, when we were at the weight-loss spa--"

"Monsters. Sucking on your fat. We took care of them."

"Ah, jeez. I knew losing ten pounds that fast was too good to be true." She turns to you. "You're a witch?"

"Ex-witch."

"You're soulless?"

"You're perceptive."

Donna takes out a piece of paper from her jacket and hands it to Sam. It has an address on it that she got from the room.

"Here. Maybe this is where Sheriff Vampire went."

"It could be anything." Sam takes out his phone and puts the address into his maps. "What's there?"

"It looks like it's an old farm outside of town."

"It could be something," Dean shrugs.

"It's the only lead we got," Donna says.

"We? With all due respect, Sheriff, vampires are far more dangerous than the Johns you throw in jail. You're gonna sit this one out."

"Stuff you, Dean!" Dean's eyebrows raise in shock. "Or whatever your real name is."

"Hanscum's good."

"Jody--"

"I said she's good," she cuts your husband off.

"Don't blame us when she dies. It's on you, Miller," you say and walk to the car.

Everyone piles into the car, leaving the two brothers in the front and all the ladies in the back. You're squished between both of them but it beats being stuck between two Winchesters. You're looking at the road in front of you but you can feel Donna's eyes on you the entire time.

"Stop staring at me," you finally say and look at her.

"You were much nicer at the spa."

You choose not to say anything to this. You really don't want to hear about it from Sam or Dean. It takes Dean thirty minutes to get to the farm where they grab their weapons from the trunk.

"If you're gonna swing, swing hard. Heads gotta roll with vamps," Dean says and hands her a machete.

"Got it," she nods.

You advance toward the barn and peek through one of the windows. Sheriff Cuse is sitting at a desk doing something. You look back at Sam and Dean and nod twice to let them know he's inside and when you look back, he's gone. Two seconds later, his head pops into view and you jump back in shock.

"Run!" he warns.

Before you know it, you're hit on the back of the head by something hard, causing you to fall to the ground knocked out. When you wake up, you're tied to a wooden pillar inside the barn. Sam and Dean are tied up next to you, Donna is tied to some tractor machine, and Jody is tied to a chair.

The youngest one who looks like a hippy chick walks over to Dean and runs her hands down his chest. He struggles to get away from her but she just laughs.

"It's all love, pretty boy. All of you will become all of us. We won't waste one bit."

"Okay, Mufasa, enough with the 'Circle of Life' shit. You're a vampire. You're scum. End of story." She runs her hands down his body and starts to remove his belt. "Yeah, I'm not in the mood."

"It's not enough that you kill people. You've got to rob them, too?" Jody asks.

"We scavenge. We don't sip and go. We use every part of the buffalo." Hippy Chick looks at you and notices the necklace you have on that represents your first daughter. She slinks up to your side and touches the jewel. "Pretty necklace."

"Don't you touch that!" Dean shouts.

Hippy Chick smirks and yanks the necklace off your neck.

"Take it. I don't care about it," you shrug.

"Starr, please, let them go," Sheriff Cuse begs. "I helped you out. I ditched that video of Catfish killing that man."

"We didn't want favors, Len. We wanted you," she glares.

"What use am I now? I don't even kill people. I'm on bagged blood."

"I beg your pardon? I saw you with your vampire face standing over Sheriff Goodhill!" Donna accuses.

"No, I found her," he stutters. "I smelled her blood. I couldn't help myself. My fangs came out but I didn't bite her."

"Aren't you a hero?" Dean scoffs.

"It's your nature to eat people. A vampire who doesn't feed is like a tiger eating salad. We're not gonna stop, Len. We'll take down every person in your sweet, little Hibbing till you come back to the nest."

"Why do you want him so badly? What did he do for you?"

"Len found me crying on the curb after my daddy kicked me out. I got in Len's van and the rest is wavy gravy."

"What, Len's like your Charlie Manson?" Jody asks.

"Charlie couldn't hold a candle to Len. He taught us everything. It was liberating. Then one day he's gone. We only found him because he got his picture in some newspaper for running a police retreat, of all things. You didn't just go straight. You became a damn cop. Now, that is wild, man. Are you feeling dirty, Len? Because we're about to have ourselves a bloodbath."

"Don't you want to know why I left?"

"I know why. You got boring."

"I got a conscience. Prey that begged for their lives... It was like even if I used every part of what I taught you, it's still wrong."

"You walked away?" Sam asks.

"I tried to protect people after so many years of gutting them. That's why I'm here. I'll join your bloody caravan if it means you won't kill these people."

"We aren't killing anyone. You are."

"You don't have to do this," Jody begs.

"Kiss my ass," Len glares.

"We love you, brother, but we don't know who you are anymore." Starr takes one of the machetes and beheads Len. "Can't say we didn't try."

While they were talking, Donna and Dean had been trying to get free of their binds. Your husband breaks free and swipes one of the machetes to attack the vampires. He is too skilled for the vampire to react to his attack, so he didn't see him coming... literally.

One of the male vampires hisses and charges after Dean just as Donna breaks free. She grabs a machete and starts swinging. Between the two of them, they are able to kill all the vampires inside the barn including Hippy Chick.

"Hakuna Matata, lady," Donna smirks as she slices Hippy Chick's head off.

"Now, that's what I'm talking about!" Dean smiles.

You, Sam, and Jody are released from your binds. All of them leave the barn to start the clean-up process while you stay behind. You watch them get far enough away from you before you look at Hippy Chick's body. Dean cleans off one of the machetes when he notices you're not with them. He frowns and walks back to the barn and peeks inside to see what you're doing.

You walk around her body before kneeling next to it. You reach inside her pocket and pull out the necklace she ripped off your neck. You stare at it for what seems like hours when it's only been seconds. You stand up and place the necklace back around your neck.

"Don't ever touch this again," you glare at her body.

Dean can't help but feel at peace when he sees this. He doesn't think no one is ever completely soulless. When Sam didn't have his soul, he felt like some part of it was still stuck inside of him. It was a small part otherwise he'd have killed Dean the second they met again. He truly believes some part of your soul is still stuck inside your body. Memories of the past are still stuck inside your head, and he believes that if they worked hard enough, they can influence you to do good.

You're in there somewhere. He just has to get that part of you out.

He leaves the bar before you see him and rejoins Sam's side. Donna and Jody are at the front of the car while the brothers are standing by the trunk.

"Are you okay?"

"Other than feeling like I want to hurl, sure. I just chopped off a vampire's head."

"You were great at that," Jody smiles.

"Thanks. I don't know, knowing that these things are out there makes the world seem bigger... darker." 

"You know, if you want any pointers on how to fight this crazy shit, I'm willing to fill you in on what kills what."

"I'd like that," Donna smiles.

"Are you okay?" Sma asks his brother.

"Yeah. You know, for the first time I've been back, I didn't feel like the Mark was pushing me."

"First time?"

"All I know is, back there, killing those vamps... I felt like me again."

"That's good, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, that's step one. We'll take it day by day."

Everyone but Dean finishes up and piles into the car. Dean looks around for you and finds you leaning against a tree in thought. You look at the necklace and rub your thumb across the jewel. 

One of the nurses brings your daughter wrapped in a pink blanket. She isn't crying anymore, but she is hungry and desperate for her mother's affection.

"Here you go," the nurse smiles and lays her in your arms.

You just sob in happiness at finally feeling her in your arms. She has a beautiful head of hair, and you can only imagine what it's going to look like once it grows out. Her eyes are a dull blue, but they will get their color in a few months. Freckles softly dance across her cheeks and nose just like her father has. She is perfect in every sense of the word.

"Hi, baby. You're my little angel," you cry and finally give her, her very first kiss on the head. "I'm your mommy."

"I'm your daddy," Dean says emotionally from right next to you.

"She's absolutely gorgeous. Do you have a name for her yet?" the nurse who brought her to you asks.

"Joanna Beth Winchester."

"Are you coming?"

Dean's voice pulls you away from a memory of the past.

"It's about time," you sigh. "I thought you were going to chick flick moment forever."

Just like that, the past stays in the past.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[liveinfitness]

Achieve Your Fitness Goals with an Adult Weight Loss Camp

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The Role of a Weight Loss Bootcamp

A weight loss bootcamp offers an intensive and focused approach to fitness. These programs are designed to push you to your limits and achieve rapid results. The combination of challenging workouts and strict nutritional guidelines ensures maximum progress in a short period. Bootcamps are ideal for those looking to make quick, noticeable changes. The structured environment helps you stay committed and focused.

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Blog Source URL:

[fitnessretreatt]

Journey to Wellness: Experience Transformation at a Fat Farm to Lose Weight and Fat farm weightless camp

Have you ever imagined a place where losing weight transforms from a challenging chore to an enriching journey? Such places exist and are known as Fat farm to lose weight and Fat farm weightless camps, where the goal is not just to shed pounds but to embrace a healthier lifestyle.

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Today’sFat farm to lose weight are not just about rigorous exercise and restrictive diets. They are comprehensive wellness centers designed to help individuals achieve lasting weight loss through a blend of scientifically-backed nutrition plans, structured exercise routines, and wellness therapies. These programs are tailored to meet the needs of each participant, ensuring a personalized approach to weight loss.

How Fat Farms Promote Sustainable Weight Loss

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Introducing Fat farm weightless camp

A more intensive option for those looking for structured support is the Fat farm weightless camp. These camps are designed to offer an immersive weight loss experience in a shorter duration, making them perfect for adults who want to kickstart their health transformation.

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Participants at a Fat farm weightless camp can expect a schedule filled with various physical activities designed to maximize calorie burn and increase fitness levels. These activities range from high-intensity interval training (HIIT) to yoga and aqua aerobics. Additionally, the camps provide balanced, portion-controlled meals prepared under the guidance of professional nutritionists to promote healthy weight loss.

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Blog Source URL :

[11x13kyle]

that one argument that nick and stav had on cum town as the boys

kyle: we're able to leave in peace. i go off to whatever i'm gonna do, cartman dies--

cartman: no???

kyle: kenny lives off his situationship's journalism money until she gets tired of that and that ends.

kenny (their guest that invited himself on this particular episode): oh i think she probably is already!

cartman: i'll live a long, fruitful life, raising children and grandchildren on a meadow with a farm, fresh berries--

kyle: it's so funny that you think that's how your life is gonna go.

cartman: it will, dude.

kyle: it's--you're NOT gonna get control of your weight, it's gonna end tragically.

cartman: you are SUCH a hater

kyle: i'm not a HATER, i care about you--

cartman: no, you don't, you just wanna--you say bad, mean things to people to make them feel bad!

kenny: it's not mean!

kyle: it's not MEAN dude.

kenny: it's maybe a little--

kyle: if i was sitting here--look, if i was sitting here smoking five and a half packs of cigarettes a day, my eyes are yellow, i'm having tumors removed from my mouth--

cartman: that was a random tumor that had nothing to do with my weight--

kyle: and--and i was like "i'll stop smoking when i'm 45!"

cartman: that's not even what i'm saying, man--

kyle: at WORST this has taken five years off my life, i'll live all the way to 65

cartman: whatever bro

kyle: i can just continue to smoke--

cartman: you're a hateful little bitch--

kyle: chainsmoke cigarettes--

cartman: it's gonna be--i am gonna be bouncing my fucking children on my knee, my grandchildren, on a meadow, feeding them fresh berries--

kyle: you'll be lucky if you still HAVE a fucking knee! by whenever the time you think this is gonna happen.

cartman: you REALLY think you're not a hater?

kyle: yeah, i dont--

cartman: you in your heart believe you're saying something true and good to your friend right now?

kyle: i think it's like--

kenny: yeah, i--

kyle: no, i mean, if you want--honestly? i do think like.....like, yes, it may be harsh, but i do think you need to have some kind of like fucking wake up call. like what changes have you made that are like permanent changes?

cartman: i'm not fucking--first of all, i'm not talking about this on the fucking podcast.

kyle: why not?

kenny: but you are--

cartman: huh?

kyle: why not?!

cartman: because it's not--i'm not trying to fucking talk about it on the podcast!

kyle: not talk about what, like a DIET or whatever? i mean...

cartman: yeah, that's--it isn't funny, and also it's like, you're not HELPFUL--

kyle: most of the PODCAST isn't funny!

kenny: yeah, you guys get a couple good things in there that--

cartman: whatever, we're done, the podcast is over at this point, i'm not trying to fucking have this--

kyle: THIS episode is...

cartman: yes, i'm fine with that too, i've had a fucking terrible 40 minutes--

kyle: i mean this--but like do you not like--in no way is it--

kenny : we don't HAVE to talk about--

kyle: SHUT UP. is--in NO way there's like--there's no way to express any kind of, like, concern?

cartman: saying i'm going to DIE is not the way you--you don't know how to talk to people, that is your CENTRAL problem--

kyle: no but i mean--NO, hold on--

cartman: and--and this is not the way to talk to someone--

kyle: hold on, i've known you for YEARS and like--this didn't start with like "ohhh, you're going to die!" like...i've like WATCHED you lose teeth, you know, be bedridden...

cartman: that has NOTHING TO DO with having a fucking--that has nothing to do with fucking being fat, dude, losing teeth, are you kidding me?! it's a completely different dental thing! you also literally don't know how to fucking talk to anybody, it is not helpful the way you speak to me in ANY--like, you're not...HELPFUL, you're not fucking supportive in any way--

kyle: well, what's helpful? what's this, what's this--

cartman: sometimes you're a mean piece of SHIT and telling me i'm gonna fucking die over and over again is exactly that!

kyle: then what's like--what IS supportive, then?

cartman: uh, just fucking--what we're doing now, having a schedule so i can fucking plan my life and go to the gym and fucking eat well, that's supportive! the podcast--

kyle: no but like what's--what is the correct way to like express concern? if it's a problem where it's like my TONE is wrong, i mean i, like, sure i can EASILY change that or address it.

cartman: yes, your tone is wrong ALL the TIME, that's your personality!

kenny: that's the thing, it's coming from a place of love, though, it's not like--

cartman: it doesn't MATTER if it's coming from a place of love--listen--

kenny: he's not trying to--

cartman: i don't want this on the podcast!

kenny: he's not trying to be a dick--

cartman: can we just stop fucking having this--

kyle: we can cut--we can cut this--

cartman: but it's like, it's not--

kenny: but i mean there's people that like also are like--that care about you that listen to the show, i don't know, it's like not--

cartman: the show will never help me lose weight! the show is a fucking JOB. the only thing the show will do is get people to mock my weight, it's not gonna be fucking helpful, it's FINE i don't give a fuck, but i AM fucking--i have made a concerted effort--the last year of my life i was getting my fucking shit together for real and then i hurt my fucking foot and the last year has been a fucking incredibly unstable year for me, i'm not even talking on the mic anymore but it's like--it's been a HORRIBLE fucking year i had a fucking--hurt my foot, i had a fucking fight with my mom, like all this shit has been HORRIBLE--

[dragoneyes618]

"By the end of Victoria's reign, food was understood in Britain in a totally novel way, yet, comparing this understanding and the usual practice with today's standards is a complex manner. The vast changes in lifestyle alter much of what we believe we 'know' about food and diet. The high temperatures we maintain with central heating in our homes, schools, offices and other indoor spaces make very different demands upon our bodies than the ambient living and working temperatures of Victorian life. The level of physical activity in our daily lives is also markedly dissimilar to the Victorian norm.

At a very basic level, I have experienced these differences myself. Living in a barely heated Victorian house through a whole winter and engaging in the daily physical routine of Victorian domestic and farming life, I found that my appetite and tastes temporarily changed. Foods that I would simply dismiss in my twenty-first-century lifestyle became delicious. I was able to eat with enthusiasm the bread and dripping, the pig's trotters and the plain suet pastry with a scrape of jam. The notion of Mediterranean food seemed laughable and utterly unappealing. When I thought of more exotic foods, the tastes I imagined seemed thin and insubstantial in the taste buds of my mind; when I thought of roly-poly pudding or a dish of brawn (jellied pig's head), my mouth watered. My body was telling me in no uncertain terms that it needed plenty of carbohydrates and animal fats to sustain the Victorian lifestyle.

I also began to understand the Victorian aversion to strong flavours. Blandness is an insult often applied to nineteenth-century cookery and, undoubtedly, the use of herbs, spices and even simple flavourings like onions was sparse. I was quite amazed at how soon I adjusted to this lower level of flavouring, how quickly and how completely my palate changed. I am unsure whether this was just a matter of getting used to a different way of eating, a re-sensitizing of my taste buds, or whether it, too, was a function of the lifestyle. I became acutely aware of the subtle inflection of taste in different varieties of potatoes; gravy became an explosion of flavour; and a single clove of garlic rubbed around the bowl and then discarded could season enough mashed potato for a whole family. As for my weight, did I put on pounds as a result of the additional carbohydrates and fat? No. Did I lose any weight with all the additional exercise and hard work? No. It seems that, given the opportunity, my body regulated my food intake to fit with what was required of it."

- How To Be A Victorian, Ruth Goodman, pages 386-387

[battorlstuff]

"The menu"

The menu will be a section where I list the stories and concepts I am working on and a future index for all my stories.

​I will accept suggestions and if possible I will try to give priority to the stories of your choice.

1. A Real Dad

The city's dads usually meet once a month to have a drink and talk about life. Everyone seemed to have a belly, more or less big, but there was someone who made them roll their eyes, Carlos. Why did he have a body like that? Carlos's comments didn't help either, but maybe during the next summer trip the other men will help Carlos become a real dad.

2. At the Mercey of the Envy

Matt was willing to become a model, he already had several proposals and with his good looks and statuesque body, no one doubted that he would be a super model, that is until his mother died. Being left in the care of his stepfather and his envious stepbrother was the worst thing that could have happened to Matt.

3. A Cow to Fill and Drain

James shouldn't have bothered the campus nerds, specifically the university's science champions. Well, when the group of nerds gets a million-dollar deal with a dietary supplement company, they make sure James is their test subject.

4. Expanding Kingdoms

A young and attractive prince named Aiden, possessed of a statuesque body, is at the mercy of a king and his son, being reduced to an obese jester.

King Cyrus and his son Danus are extremely obese but control most of the kingdoms, between negotiations at court the gallant prince ends up insulting the king and his son, mocking their weight and fat body. So when the war breaks out and the prince's kingdom falls, the gallant remains in the hands and as a prisoner of the king and his son.

The king leaves the arrogant prince at the mercy of his son Danus, who takes it upon himself to fatten and humiliate him. Danus enjoys watching the hot prince grow fat and lose his wonderful muscles.

5. Extra Credits, Extra Pounds

Logan is both intelligent and attractive, and he went to one of the best high schools in London.

As the son of farmers he has developed an exceptional physique due to all the work on the farm, but his parents did not take kindly to him not wanting to dedicate himself to the fields, he practically had to run away from home. Now he was one of the most popular and handsome guys in the place.

Most of his teachers adore Logan, he is the perfect student, although there may be some who have certain resentment towards the boy. Algebra Professor Harries hates Logan, the boy was not only brilliant but also too attractive.

Professor Harries couldn't help but be consumed by envy, because every time Logan showed off his good body the professor remembered how he tried to look better and exercise at that age. Teacher's pet Ethan also seems jealous, Etahn is a nerd but unlike Logan, Ethan is overweight and basically ugly.

When Logan wins a scholarship to a prestigious university, Ethan is frustrated. Logan is not only attractive but smarter. Maybe his favorite teacher has a plan, between the two of them will blackmail the handsome boy into doing whatever they want, putting his scholarship in the way.

6. Stuffed Deal

Jason has been a bully all his life, when he finished college things seemed to be going great, he had a good job and his body looked better than ever, but when the company where he works declares bankruptcy things get complicated for Jason.

The stud finds a new world online and with his good looks he does not hesitate to make videos and lives, satisfying others for money. However, without knowing it, Jason ends up at the mercy of some guys who have a certain grudge against him.

I will also continue working on Fall of the Jock and maybe another chapter for Rival Treatment 😏