elder emo millennial FFA, feeder, encourager, and lover of stuffed bellies. taken, but open to casual chatting. sometimes I write things when I can wrangle the ADHD brain gremlins
I almost missed you in the food court. You looked like almost every other 20 something girl at the faire, wearing a corset inspired top and pink satin skirt. But then you turned and I saw, couldn't keep my eyes off honestly, how round your belly was. From the back, you still looked thin, but after you turned, I could see how far your potbelly was jutting out from your petite frame. There was a strip of soft, tan skin peeking out between the bottom of your shirt and the visibly tight waistband of your skirt. The elastic dug into your round belly, leaving marks behind on your softening body but that didn't stop you from devouring a massive plate of fries as you stood waiting for more food. The friend you were with was clearly used to your appetite, she barely touched the food. I wonder how much you had eaten already. Did you chug a beer when you got to the faire? Maybe grabbed a pickle or ice cream on the way in? And here you are, eating quickly while you wait for even more fattening faire food. The blooming onions can take a while, but watching you stuff yourself while you waited made the time pass in pleasure. I'm sad I didn't see you pass my booth again that day, I would've loved to see if your belly had gotten any bigger. Did you eat the whole fried onion yourself? Did you drink more to wash it down? Or maybe you found some other treats to stuff into your burgeoning belly, a turkey leg or gooey Mac and cheese in a bread bowl. I would've loved to see how tight your skirt was by the end of the day, or if it had gotten so uncomfortable that you had to wear it lower on your hips to give your stuffed belly room to grow. Did you waddle back through the forest to your car? It couldn't have been easy to walk so far with that heavy gut packed full. Maybe I'll see you another weekend, I wonder how much you can eat next time.
I fucking love it when you fatasses use football as a valid reason to go all out and binge during the game. Chips and dip, Platters, Grilling, Desserts. It's like the perfect opportunity for you to indulge as much as you want without feeling shame. Watching that belly slowly push against your jersey by the end of the day. I really can't wait till the Super Bowl. It's like a prime event for me as a feeder to watch you all gorge and binge without any regret and crawl to me when your poor belly is uncomfortably full.
fattening someone up but doing it in like. a masculinizing way. telling you “eat up, i like boys who look like they can handle themselves” with a coy little wink as i add another serving to your plate, grabbing your chub, “gotta make sure you can keep me warm.” squeezing your doughy arm the same way one would squeeze a guy’s muscled bicep, even more admiringly. saying things like “i need a guy with a little weight on him,” as i encourage you to order a second entree when we’re out to dinner, and on the way home i rub your stuffed belly, “hm, you’re still a little scrawny, but you’ll be a real hunk in no time.”
A fattening vehicular vignette inspired by @batsforfats
Get in the car, tubby; you and I have some research to do. I’ve seen how much fast food you’ve been bringing home recently, but it always seems to come from the same place. I think it’s time for us to broaden your culinary horizons the way all that greasy food has been broadening your flabby waistline. Today we’re going to stop at one of every fast food chain within a 5 mile radius and you’re going to eat the signature meal at each one. Oh don’t look at me like that, I know it sounds like a lot, but I also know how much you love to eat for me. By the end of this trip, I want to know which chain you like best so that I can keep my growing piggy satisfied with all his favorite greasy grub whenever he needs a little treat.
Wow, you really wolfed that down huh? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; I figured we’d get your staple slop out of the way first. Oh c’mon, I’m teasing, I’m teasing; I’m sure it’s great. I mean, I wouldn’t know, that burger had more calories in it than I eat in a day, but then again a big growing boy like you needs plenty of fuel to haul that bulky bod around. Alright, back in the car, tubbo, the day is young and you still look hungry.
Aww, is my unstoppable eater starting to lose steam? You didn’t plow through those last two burgers nearly as quickly as you inhaled the first four. Are you running out of room in the tank, big guy? I was starting to think that wasn’t possible, but I don’t blame you; you’ve already packed away enough food to feed a family, and we still have a few more stops to make. Just look at how the weight of this overfilled mound is jamming your belt down into your lap. Here, why don’t you let me help you out before you break something. Theeeere you go, isn’t that better? Oh don’t look at me like that, we both know this isn’t the first time you’ve had to shuffle your fat ass out of a restaurant with your pants undone. C’mon, let’s get out of here and back to the car. We’ll hit the drive through for the next few stops; you’re not exactly presentable anymore with the underside of that overstuffed tub hanging out for all the world to see.
Oh my god, look at this gut! I cannot believe how much you’ve managed to cram in here. Can we just take a moment to appreciate how much more of that seat you take up than when we left this morning? All those fried carbs and greasy patties have blown you up like a balloon! Just lean back, rub your belly slowly, and take nice, shallow breaths for me, my panting piggy; one more stop and we’ll be on our way home where I can give you all the relief you need. I know you can’t exactly bend at the waist right now, but could you grab my sunglasses out of the glove compartment? Can you even pry it open with that big blubber belly in the way? OH SHIT, sorry, sorry! I didn’t realize I was drifting onto the grooved pavement. Aww, you poor plump thing, that must have felt awful. I could see your pudgy little cheeks jiggling angrily with every bump, but that boulder in your lap didn’t even budge. I can’t even imagine how heavy you must feel right now, how painfully tight your skin must be stretched. I love how far you’ve been pushing yourself for me today, baby. Don’t worry, just one more stop and then we’ll head home where you can sleep this off. You’ll feel so much better once all that heavy food inside you starts turning to nice thick new fat for me to enjoy in softening places all across your growing body. So hang in there, tubby; there’s just one more thing I need you to eat for me.
do you want me to make you fat? is that what you want? you want me to order you to eat more everywhere we go, to constantly be pushing desserts into your hands, to order fast food and sodas for you every night? you want me to feed you when you get too tired and full to do it yourself? I want to hear you say it- that you want to see your body grow and plump up. that you want to become fat and jiggly and constantly full under my care. so is that what you want?
Thanks for answering my ask! I had a follow-up question I thought to send by PM, but in hindsight you obviously have this inbox here for a reason.
You left the nature of the road trip in that story to the reader’s imagination, and mine certainly took that bait and ran wild with it. Since I’ve started to share some of my own fiction on here as I explore life as a feedee, I wondered how you might feel if I posted a few of the variations I dreamed up using your absolute banger of an opening line as the connective tissue between them. I cannot imagine a more perfect tone-establishing phrase to explore the feedist allure of an automobile in motion than “Get in the car, tubby”, but I’ll figure out the next best thing if you’re not cool with it!
By all means post your variations! I'm so flattered that you found it so inspiring 😊
I’ve been in and out of the feedism community for a while now, but I just wanted to let you know that when I decided a few months back to finally take the plunge and try stuffing myself for the first time, it was your vignette about a feeding road trip that tipped me over the edge. Short as it is, that little story lit up my imagination and gave me just the right nudge at the right time, and as I’ve explored this new side of myself, it’s become a favorite fantasy of mine to return to (and one that makes life in a suburb seem a little sexier somehow). So thank you for the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, and for all your other delicious writing; I hope you keep at it, even if it may not be great for my waistline!
I'm so happy you enjoyed it so much! And especially glad to hear that it's been adding to your waistline 😉 Thank you for taking the time to let me know! 😊
It’s his eyes that draw you in first. Deliciously blue and full of joy in a sea of business bros. Your thumb freezes mid swipe. Upon further inspection his profile shows shared interests and a witty humor. With less facial hair and harder angles, he wasn’t your usual type. Yet something itched in the back of your mind.
The following evening your leg fidgets mindlessly. You’re sitting at a high top near the main door of the brewery; you knew it wouldn’t help your nerves but can’t resist that first glance. A tall shadow walks through the door, tugging the shirt away helplessly from his belly as bright eyes trail the faces near the bar. As they turn to land on you your heart skips a beat.
Apparently his dating profile was hiding one major detail. His photos were old. Judging by his current size they might even be a couple years old. There are no hard angles on this face as he flushed pink. He gives you a small wave that causes his middle to wobble softly.
A shiver tickles your spine as weight gain scenarios intrusively flood your thoughts. You look away, digging your fingernails into your forearm. Don’t be so fucking weird.
He wasn't your usual type, tall and lean and dressed in activewear in all his photos, but something made you give his profile a second glance. His eyes were so blue and his happiness somehow translated through wires and signals and screens to lift the corner of your mouth in a half-smile. Cute, but so… angular. But there was some nudge in the back of your mind, an itch that made you hesitate for several seconds over his photos. So, caution thrown to the wind, you clicked that heart button and shut the app for the night.
A few nights later, after a shockingly interesting conversation for a dating app, you're sitting alone at a table in a bustling brewery, one leg bouncing manically on the rung of your chair while waiting for him to show up. You're wearing the red v-neck that you know sets off your hair, the one you told him to look for, and scanning every newcomer anxiously for the blue shirt he said he'd be wearing. He's only 3 minutes late according to your phone, but you can't help wondering if this was a mistake after all. Your head snaps up at the sound of the door opening once more, and your heart skips a beat as your eyes immediately track a hand tugging a tight, clingy, bright blue shirt away from a round belly and visibly soft lovehandles.
Oh. OH. Those pictures on his profile were old. At least a few years, judging by the chubby cheeks framing the same gorgeous smile from his photos that he flashes your way once he spots you across the room. He lifts one hand in a shy wave that sends a ripple through his belly where his arm nudges into it. A shiver runs down your spine as the kinky parts of your brain light up like a Christmas tree. You glance back down at the beer list clenched in your hands in an attempt to dispel the weight gain scenarios flooding your system. Please don't be weird tonight brain, you think to yourself even as you grin back at him when he sits across from you. He has to scoot the chair back from the table to fit. You notice the dimples in his cheeks up close. He's handsome, extremely so. You're so screwed.
"Hi," he starts. "I'm Quinn. You must be Taylor."
"That's me," you say, cringing internally at your lame opening. "It's nice to meet you, Quinn. Have you been here before?"
"A few times, I like their experimental beers a lot. I mean, maple cream donut beer? It's inspired!" His enthusiasm was infectious and you found yourself leaning closer to him to share the menu you were still clutching like a security blanket. The thought of feeding him maple cream donuts danced through your mind, your efforts to chase it away were derailed when he mentioned that his current favorite was the fried ice cream stout that was on tap for the weekend. Dessert flavored beer was now your new favorite thing, thank you universe.
Thankfully, a waiter stopped by your table just then, saving you from having to untie your tongue in order to come up with some kind of intelligent response. He went with the stout and you wanted to try the lemon meringue sour. The waiter handed you each a food menu and mentioned that happy hour specials ended in about 40 minutes, so get your orders in quickly if you wanted the deals. Quinn's eyes lit up as he scanned the menu, oohing and ahhing over the myriad fried appetizers and burgers they offered. Your eyes, however, were locked on the bolded text proclaiming "buy two beers, get two apps for $5 each!"
"We have to get the pretzel bites," Quinn said, happily pointing to the words on the menu so you could see. "They're some of the best I've ever had. And the loaded potato skins should be called overloaded, they really pile on the toppings. Oh, and their fried mac and cheese come with a spicy mango dipping sauce that'll absolutely blow your mind!" He flashed that grin at you again and it took you a beat too long to realize he had asked you which apps you thought sounded good.
"Oh, um, I like the sound of the mac and cheese bites. I love mac and cheese," you stammered out, mouth trying to catch up to brain. Your brain seemed to be fighting itself though, because your next words were horribly (excitingly?) unexpected. "Maybe we'll need a second round of drinks so we can try all your favorites." You smiled at him and tried to hide the internal horror at the implications of what you had just said.
His eyes lit up and you breathed a silent sigh of relief. "That's gotta be the best idea I've heard all day, Taylor!" He smiled at you in a way that could only be described as wolflike. You drop your chin and smirk back at him through your eyelashes. There's a brief beat of silence before you both start to ask about each other, only learning favorite colors (teal for him, red for you) and favorite types of food (Japanese is your favorite, he says he likes everything equally and you absolutely believe him) before the waiter comes back with your beers. Quinn orders the pretzel bites and the fried mac and cheese, both with extra sauce. He lifts his glass up carefully after the waiter leaves again, meeting your eyes over the top of the foam.
"Cheers to a good first date?" he says, getting a little shy once again. You can't help but smile back at him and lift your glass just as carefully to clink against his.
"Cheers to a really good first date so far," you say and mean it. He's been sweet so far, and funny and kind. And deliciously chubby with an unashamedly big appetite the fucked up part of your brain purrs in your mind. You force your thoughts back into submission and sip your beer, which is really good. You look back up at Quinn to tell him so only to see that he's gulped down almost half of his glass already. Your gaze automatically drops to his belly, already round and taking up a good amount of his lap. He catches your eye and licks the foam off his lip, causing a jolt of heat through your core.
The food arrives just then, a blessed distraction at first until you process just how big these apps are. There's enough for a full meal on each plate. And Quinn is already ordering a second round of drinks for both of you, along with the other two apps he wanted try. You try not to gape, or moan, or burst into flames as you take another sip of your beer with shaky hands. A brief but subtle glance up at the corners of the room don't reveal any cameras, so you're not being Punk'd, but the universe is clearly out to give you a heart attack tonight.
If you guys want more of them I can continue? I'd like to continue but I need accountability
it's actually really easy to figure out if someone is a feeder. just tease them by mentioning your weight or your eating habits! hearing you remark "if i eat any more, i'll pop a button." i would blush so hard anyone would know something's up. saying, "i've really packed on the pounds recently" would make me bite my lip till it bleeds. feedees can spot me like a red rose in a field of daisies.
Thinking about how good it looks when someone has a gut that just sticks out when they're standing up straight and it's obvious they haven't said no to those snacks recently and it's just exposed and ready to be poked and rubbed and ugh it's just so so so good 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻
Oh honey, that's a challenge if I've ever heard one. Do you think that layer of softness around your hips and belly and chest, small as it is right now, appeared out of nowhere? I'm sure it's in no way related to how little you've been working out lately, and how you've been cleaning your plate at every meal. Not to mention all the heavy fall and winter beers you've been drinking.
But no, you don't gain weight that easily.
The holidays are coming soon, and with them all the food and drink and sweet treats I can possibly ply you with. You already never say no to seconds, even thirds sometimes. I can't wait to lay temptation in the form of creamy pastas, filling soups and stews, fresh bread, warm cookies, gooey brownies, and your favorite, apple pies, in front of you all winter. We'll see just how easily you gain weight.
