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From Encyclopedia Dramatica
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FoundationJune 24, 2007
Major Boards/bbw/, /elite/, /booty/
Epic WinsBeing the biggest fucking disgrace of all *chans, defeating even Fchan's level of fail.

This is the reason the Internet was invented.


You after masturbating to this shit, you sick fuck. Kill yourself.

They jerk off to this filth.
Most of the userbase will masturbate like mad over this.

There used to be a time where no *chan could fail as much as Fchan. Well, that's no longer true. BBWChan has somehow become the first *chan to be even worse than Fchan. BBWChan is an imageboard where sick fucks ensure that morbidly obese women proceed to an early death by telling them that their rolls of disgusting flubber are sexy and they shouldn't try to live normal, healthy lives. This statement is one of concern, something that comes naturally to normal, healthy people like the authors of this article.

Encyclopedia Dramatica's articles on fat girl angle shot, the Fat Acceptance Movement, and (obviously) fat are huge turn-ons to all BBWeirdo users.

Current boards


  • /bbw/ - A board filled with women that had more cheeseburgers than kisses in their lives.
  • /bbwalt/ - Obese fetus-fuck lolis. Also, furries.
  • /bbwdraw/ - The drawfag version of /bbw/.
  • /bhm/ - /bbw/ and /bbwdraw/ together, but for men. Hold on a sec, I need to barf... OK, I'm back. Next!
  • /booty/ - The only board with any standards at all. Occasionally you get someone acceptably thicc, but usually just unattractive fat assholes.
  • /ee/ - Other fucked up, gross, ugly porn that somehow doesn't fit anywhere else.
  • /elite/ - People reading, writing, and enjoying shitty fanfictions.
  • /futa/ - Weeaboo pornography.
  • /inf/ - For those who want their blow-up dolls to be real people- but still blown-up.
  • /li/ - Dildos go where?
  • /manip/ - "Is this 500 pound whale-woman big enough? Nah, let's make her look like she's 800 pounds!"
  • /mu/ - Muscly chicks.
  • /oe/ - Drawings of fat people, but sketchier. Basically just /bbwdraw/.
  • /pe/ - After all, everybody loves penis.
  • /preg/ - Women enjoying their last days of sexual life.
  • /tits/ - Big tiddies? Nice. Trashbag gut underneath? No thank you.
  • /trans/ - Trannies. What did you expect?


  • /ct/ - A way to contact your friendly neighborhood mods and admins. You know, because they're the only ones who will ever accept you for your disgusting fetish.
  • /fb/ - Your opinion matters! NOT.
  • /gen/ - Like /qa/ of 4chan, yet still focusing mainly on fatasses.


Creation of BBWChan

While it was run by Popcorn Mariachi, the site was known as a general fetish board and was called 7898chan. Under a new domain (, it changed its name to BBWChan in June 24, 2007, since most of its content was fatty related. On BBWChan, every thread is a chubby thread, reaping the content of all the BBW Porn Sites on teh interwebs.

BBWChan went down for a few months in early 2008. No one is sure why, but most people believe it finally reached its weight capacity and went tumbling down the elevator shaft of the internet. And nothing of value was lost. It returned on June 10, 2008 under yet another domain (, administered by a shadowy figure named CrazyMonkey who also owns not4chan. In 2014 the equally shadowy je(we)ss assumed control.


Probably even before BBWChan, captainstupids, well described by his username, established his own cringy imageboard, known simply as InflateChan. It would have been as big a failure as BBWChan if it hadn't had only nine fucking users. Srsly, it didn't even have a unique logo visual, and that says pretty much everything. Fortunately, it died out; unfortunately, BBWChan integrated it as /inf/.

The Great BBWar of 2011

On /bbw/ in 2011, there was a war between the sick fucks who think that 600 lbs. women are sexy and the normal people who like their chix to be larger than those found on /b/, but not the sort of shit that feeders fap to. Certainly, they could have just hidden each other's threads, but everyone loves the drama that occurs when people get off their ass to whine "Stop liking what I don't like!" Obviously, this caused a great amount of fail, but what made it even worse was that the SSBBW (Super Sized Big Beautiful Women, aka immobile-tier fatties) lovers actually defeated their much more sensible peers. This fact should give new visitors to the site an idea of what to expect from BBWeeaboos.

Migration to the current site

In late 2016, various features of were breaking down, and it was obvious that- thank God!- the end was nigh. But, instead of TAKING THE HINT, some faggot named LtBarclay took it upon himself to save this massive trainwreck and started a new site at on December 10, 2016. Gee, thanks, bro.

Notable contributors


Seriously? Besides running the site, he actually interacts with and cares about the community? Fucking tryhard.

Content Man

Take me by the hand, lead me to the land. Really though, don't. I don't want to see the kind of content you provide.


Improving the lives of his people just as much as the actual Putin does. Which, of course, means he's just poisoning their minds.


Yeah, the real Harambe would not approve.

BBW/SSBW models

They drop in every once in a while because this is the only place where people like their blubbery, bloated excuses for bodies. Go to the goddamn gym once in a while!

Hatred of fun

BBWChan, as it seems, hates fun. They actually have rules- ooh, so respectable!- and will ban you faster than one of the fatasses they love so much can scarf down a candy bar, so you better have a lot of IP addresses ready if you want to successfully troll these perverts.

The Worst of /elite/

BBWhales' top source for stories about anyone or anything gaining weight, having body parts expand, eating entire people- you know, the usual smut.

“Good afternoon Organism Eight,” rattled a tin voice.

“Do not struggle. Tearing your stitches will prove most painful.”

Alyssa felt her chest tighten. While the voice's tone was as innocent as girl scout speaking into a soda can, it's message turned her blood cold.

Her erratic, racing heart sent spurts of worried thoughts through her brain. “I can't feel my legs! I can't feel anything! Where am I? And stitches!”

“Your vitals suggest you've noticed your unique situation. You're temporarily paralyzed to avoid any unwarranted retaliation. While you slept I've also made a few alterations to your body. Allow me to show you.” The rattling voice chirped like a text tone, and a sterile humming filled the room.

Alyssa's prison began to tilt upwards, allowing her eyes to greet her reflection in the mirrored walls.

What she saw beyond the glass, strapped to a gurney was unbelievable. The woman's head was shaved short to her scalp and her pierced nose and wild eyes were wet with tears and dribble. Alyssa's eyes followed the moister trail to an enormous pair of full red lips, and hanging limply between them was a long pink tongue, at its end swung a heavy looking weight.

“Don't be alarmed Eight. The weight only serves to loosen and tear the muscles in your tongue. It is mostly painless and has rid you of the ability to speak. This will also make eating very difficult, and you will be doing a lot of that. But fret not, I have thought of everything” the voice beamed, and the familiar humming brought Alyssa closer to the mirrored wall.

She tried to blink the tears from her eyes, but her stubborn lids were beyond her control. She focused hard on her stomach and noticed a long, ridged hose seemingly connecting to a valve just north east of her navel.

“This tube will ensure your body gets all the nutrient it needs. What you will be eating tastes positively rancid, but lucky for you, you won't taste a drop. You will ingest pounds of this aromatic mixture daily. You will grow, and once you've met your minimum weight, we will begin Phase Two. I promise you Eight, by the time we part ways, you'll be begging you to let you stay here with me. You'll look back on this time and yearn for it. Now get some rest, tomorrow we begin.”

Alyssa's thought slowed to a crawl, she could feel her mind grow hazy and slip into the cold black of sleep.


A rich father of two adoring girls (one nerdy fourteen-year-old with a gothic-punk image about her, the other a stuck-up seventeen-year-old who's a cheerleader because stereotypes), recently got remarried (his first wife dying four years ago) to a gold-digger who sees the girls as hindrances to her investments (namely the man's money).

The man dies in a car-crash a few months after the marriage, and the gold-digger starts enforcing certain rules upon the daughters after the will's hearing.

One stipend of her getting all of the man's money and property was that she'd always look after his daughters, and to give them most of it when they move out on their own.

Seeing the amount of money she'd lose when they would move out, she hatches a scheme to fatten the girls up till they could never leave their rooms, let alone the mansion.

The oldest tries to rebel against it, as their type in this story tends to, but the younger one takes to the copious amounts of greasy, fattening junk food and the secretly enforced sedentary life-style with glee.

The way I see this going is that the young girls are steadily fattened up (with maybe a little force-feeding with the older sister), and the gold-digger slowly succumbs to the temptation of all the fatty foods around her.


Lunchtime at school- the last time for a while, thank goodness. It's the last day of school before break. Not a half-day like every other fucking school in our area, but a whole day. No worries, it's the last time I'll have to get frustrated over that.

It's been a little less than a month since Katie and I started going out, and David is just now starting to get used to that. He's eased up and is about as comfortable as he's always been with us.

He definitely is not as comfortable with my weight gain, though. I see him sneaking curious peeks at my larger form from time to time. Just like everyone else in this school. I can understand, it's pretty interesting. Stuff like this doesn't usually happen.

Maybe they're admiring my new wardrobe instead.


Last weekend was when I went out alone to get some new clothes for myself. I hadn't checked my weight since Thanksgiving, but I had been eating even more during the night than I had before Thanksgiving and things were not going well in the clothing department.

You know you need new clothes when your underwear doesn't even over your ass anymore.

My favorite fat fetish pictures were always the ones where a girl was wearing underwear she had grown too fat for, and they were riding up their ass-crack like a thong and causing some obvious overhang.

It's not all it's cracked up to be.

If you're a dude whose ass just won't stop growing and your underwear-of-choice is the boxer brief, the wake-up call comes when there's a good half-inch of your ass crack showing on top of the waistband, with fat bulging out, and another half inch underneath also bulging, forming the crease onto your definitely thicker thighs.

Katie looks great today. Happier than I've seen her in a while. I'm grateful for the half of her lunch that she's letting me eat. What I'm used to packing for myself hasn't been enough lately. I mean, it's been enough, but it doesn't get me full. Even after I added more items to my lunch.

So on days when Katie gives me a little extra, I'm always grateful. She's given me a lot today, a whole serving of beef stew. It's not hot, so I down it pretty quickly- and that sends me over the edge.

My stomach is pushing out, testing my button.

Dammit, I just bought these.

With the full stomach comes the erection. Luckily I am tucked under a table and we still have ten more minutes of lunch. Enough to calm down.

Am I going to need to go up another pair?

I bought a set of mediums for myself last weekend when I went out. Those changing rooms forced me to examine myself. I try not to as much because it ruins the fun for me when things catch me unawares.

I wore my track pants to a nearby clothing strip mall and a large church-volunteer work shirt I had been wearing too often during the break. My track pants are stretchy and I felt like a god damn college girl squeezed into yoga pants. They were tight everywhere from the thigh up.

They pinched in around my crotch, framing my penis easily if I wasn't careful. It made my belly overhang slightly- just to the drawstring. It doesn't do that unless I'm wearing something tight.

I'm not THAT fat.

But mostly, it rode the hell out of my ass. I'm glad I wore that large shirt, because I'm sure at least part of my ass-crack would be visible if it wasn't covered.

It was the changing room that made me confront my body.

I had grabbed a bunch of mediums to try on, the next step up from my usual small.

After peeling off my track pants in the changing room, the first thing I noticed was my ass.

Jesus Christ, it's getting big.

Sure it poked out a little more, but just slightly,

ever so slightly,

it was wider, spreading out

No longer large and round, but just large.

In each check, in asymmetric spots, there is a tiny dimple (it looks like a pockmark) that rests in the bottom outside corner.

The rest of my body would not be ignored- I can't just focus on my ass. My ignorance is not strong enough in a well-let mirrored habitat.

Everything is softer. heavier.

My arms are ever so slightly softer. It just feels like more skin, but I know it's fat. My chest, same story.

My stomach has grown, mostly in the lower part of my gut, where I let my bloated distended stomach hang when I stuff myself like the pig I am nearly every night.

It has spread up my torso slightly, too.

So now there's a little soft something under my little soft chest.

Mediums fit snug, but not tight.

Today, Mediums fit tight.

I realize that going back over how my body looks to everyone in this cafeteria and how fucking fat I've become has not helped it suppressing my erection.

Oh well.

I scratch under my chin and find that my skin has more leeway there.

No way am I fat enough for it to show in my face.

Show, not feel. Show, not feel.

Hah, that does it. I've made up my mind. It's what occupies my mind all day anyway.

I scoot my chair out and utter an excuse me to my friend and girlfriend. I can feel eyes on my ass and my erection in my pants as I head towards the bathroom. This'll be quick.


There was once a boy called Adam. Adam was a happy boy but there was one problem; he was too skinny. Adam had to do lots of sport and eat healthy food, but secretly he wished that he could eat junk food and watch TV all day. He wanted to get so chubby he couldn't see his toes, and so big he couldn't fit in the shower. He wanted to be the biggest boy in school.

One day he decided to ask his mother. “Mom, would you still love me if I was bigger than an elephant?” His mother smiled, “Of course.” “What about if I was heavier than a truck?” His mother giggled, “Well of course I would.” “What about if I was greedier than a pig?” His mother laughed, “Oh honey! I will always love you. Even if you were the size of a house!” And with that, Adam knew that he should follow his dreams.

Adam told the other boys at school what he wanted to do. He said that when he was plump they could feel his fat whenever they wanted. Some of them thought it was funny, some of them thought it was gross, and some of them were just fascinated. He asked if they would give him half their lunches and ten of the boys agreed. This meant that Adam would be eating six lunches everyday.


I've kind of turned myself on by getting so much hate from 4chan/IRL/reddit etc by being fat. I just imagine tying down this lewd, awful person who hates me so much because of my gut. Tying them down to a nice black table, completely naked except for those lovely black leather cuffs and that stunning black leather gag. To finally shut them up, of course. I don't want them distracting me. That doesn't stop them, though. Shooting daggers at me, eyes burning hot with hatred, the disgust evident clearly in them.

I sit down within plain view of them, just beside the tale on a couch, a small table set with a delightful spread for my gorging feast. KFC, as it's the messiest, greasiest and the most hands on of the takeaways. I get stuck in, making a huge show of how much I love it, moaning and squirming with delight, taking joy in how they have to look away least they retch. Their throbbing erection lie. It's a mess, chicken skins and coleslaw everywhere, gravy stuck to my chin and breasts.

once I'm finished I stand and walk to them, the lack of pleasurable feasting moans gaining their attention as they think their nightmare might be over.

Their sight is blocked when I drop my fat, hanging gut flap over their face, smothering their eyes as my hand grasps at their cock, my fat fingers fiddling with their thick, hot length, stroking them off with the help of the KFC grease still staining my fingers. They cum quickly.


I had been watching her since she’d entered the club, completely enraptured by her every movement. The friend who’d dragged me here had already left with some tipsy girl wrapped around her arm, and unless I felt like standing in the rain waiting for the bus, I had been left with nothing to do but wait grumpily near the bar wishing I’d brought enough money for another drink to pass the time. My friend had said this club was a sure bet, that she never failed to find a cute girl to take home and that I would have no trouble doing the same. But it seemed the only way to meet anyone was to go out on the dance floor and grind against them; the music was certainly too loud to try to strike up a conversation, even if I had seen someone I liked. The truth was, I found myself drawn to women on the larger side, and although I’m sure they were lovely people, I just wasn’t interested in any of the women here. I was leaning against the wall, checking my phone when she strutted in. Taller than the bouncer and at least three times as wide, each confident stride her thick-heeled boots took sent a mesmerizing ripple through the bulging flesh of her thighs, which were tightly wrapped in a pair of fishnet stockings and barely covered by a very short pair of leather shorts. Draped over her shoulders was a very loose black singlet with a skull and crossbones design on it, but the bones seemed to resemble a knife and fork. The arm holes nearly reached the bottom of the singlet, and beneath her meaty but well-muscled arms I could make out a grey strapless halter top wrapped tightly around her generous bosom, pushing it up so that everyone could get a good view of her cleavage through the deep neckline. She cut through the crowd of people, heading straight for the bar, and bent over to lean on it as she waited to be served. I worried she’d feel my gaze burning a hole through her shorts like a laser, so powerful was my focus on the round expanse of her rear as it wriggled slightly as she downed her three glasses like they were shots. The music pounded in my ears nearly as much as my own heartbeat when she whipped around and I got my first look at her pale, round face and cheeky, devious grin. Her complexion was flawless, not a single mark or blemish, which drew more attention to the bright sapphire nose stud. She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes as she surveyed the dance floor, tucking it back into place in the tight bob that framed her chubby features, jet black except for a streak of neon blue which matched her piercing. The right spot having revealed itself to her, she made her way under one of the spotlights and quickly carved out a space. She received a couple of annoyed or disgusted looks from the other dancers as she used her bulk to clear out the space in the spotlight, but it was obvious she didn’t care; she was going to be the center of attention in this corner of the dance floor and there was nothing they could do about it. I checked my phone again, not out of boredom this time, but wanting to know how long I could spend admiring this beauty before the last bus would arrive, and to my horror, discovered I’d only have fifteen minutes of covert appreciation before I would need to leave. Putting my phone away and resuming my ogling. I considered joining her, but I didn’t know the first thing about dancing and would no doubt look like an idiot as I tripped over myself. I didn’t trust myself not to become utterly tongue tied if I actually did manage to talk to her. As she danced, I got to admire every curve on her body, from the graceful roundness of her thick neck, to a few brief glances through the holes in her singlet at the rolls of her love handles, she was simply stunning from head to toe, but what grabbed my attention most of all was her belly. It didn’t jut out crudely like a beach ball, yet it was unmistakably massive. Poking out from under the singlet from time to time as she danced, I could see it lap over the waistline of her shorts, and catching a brief, tantalizing glance at her deep navel whenever she raised her arms up as she moved to the music. When she bent over to shake her booty, time seemed to slow as the two mountainous globes crashed into each other beneath the tight leather fabric of her shorts. That’s when it happened. She straightened up slightly, turned her head to the side, and looking me dead in the eye, winked. My mouth went dry and my stomach filled with butterflies, how long had she known I was watching her? I felt the urge to run away, but it swiftly vanished as she turned to face me and I found myself locked in place by her piercing, blue eyes. She approached me, very slowly, dancing her way across the room and seeming to take me on a tour of her body. She jiggled her chest, ran her hands over her buttocks and even grabbed a handful of soft belly flab and gave it a hearty squeeze as she approached. I was stunned like a deer in headlights as she finally reached the patch of wall I had been leaning against and planted her hand on it by my ear, towering over me.

“You like what you see, don’t you?” she said, panting slightly.

“Well, erm, yes, I do.” I said meekly, I didn’t even think about denying it.

“Thought so.” she smiled, “I could practically smell you drooling from the other side of the room, not that I blame you.”

“I’m sorry.” I apologized reflexively.

“Nothing to be sorry about, I wouldn’t be showing off if I didn’t want to be noticed. So why’re you still standing over here? Got a broken leg or something?”

“No, it’s just that I need to catch a bus soon and-”

“Do you really ‘need’ to catch that bus?” she interrupted, stepping in closer, eclipsing the lights from the dance floor as she lowered her head to whisper into my ear. “Because unless I’m very much mistaken, your body is telling you that you ‘need’ to come and dance with me.” I let out a surprised gasp as she suddenly cupped my genitals. She grinned as she gave me a hard squeeze, watching with amusement as my knees twitched and I nearly crumpled at her expert touch. Before I had a chance to regain my balance, she had grabbed my hand and was pulling me onto the dance floor. That was the point when I realized I was definitely going to miss my bus.


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