A few days ago I told my wife I missed going out to the local seafood boil restaurant. We had gotten it to go a few times but it wasn’t the same. Something about those cold pitchers of beer and spicy seafood just hit harder at the restaurant. So when I asked my wife if we could go her reply was simply that we could try.
I knew what she meant by “we could try”. It was we could try to see if I’ll fit. We could try to see if I could handle the waddle from the car to the restaurant. We could try as in i may just be too heavy for this sort of thing now. The weight gain from the last year seemed to put me over the edge. Last year even though I was over 400 lbs it was still no problem. But now it’s a we can try.
So the next day we tried and I’m glad we did. It was the first time I had been out in a while. Getting in and out of the car was more of a challenge than it was last time. When we got to the restaurant I was glad to see that they still had the same seating arrangement with booths that had moveable tables. My wife got in her side first then pulled the table towards her. Then I got in. I have such a big fat spread now. When I sat down my ass and hips spread me the length of the bench seating. Then my wife pushed the table my way a little and it pressed into my stomach, so that half my belly was on the table and my tits resting on top of my belly fat.
“You fit, baby,” my wife said excitedly. A moment later the server was at the table. It was the same girl that used to serve us when we were regulars. She recognized my wife immediately then looked at me and her eyes said, “oh my you’re a big boy” but the words that came out were “long time no see. Great to see you again.”
After she took our order and left my wife looked at me.
“Did you see that?” She said.
“‘See what?”
“She was shocked by how fat I’ve made you.”
“What? Maybe she was shocked but why do you say it’s because she knows you are responsible?”
“Because I look happy. She saw how happy I look and saw how fat you’ve gotten. I saw the look she gave me after she looked at you.”
My wife is usually right about these things. I rarely challenge her on stuff like this or anything at all really.
When the server came back to the table with bibs and gloves she offered to put the bib on me. While she was doing so I could almost feel her taking in all my width. I looked at my wife and she still had this big smile on her face. A moment later our food came. Several bags of spicy cajun seafood. I got three lbs of shrimp just for myself and several orders garlic bread to soak up the sauce. We ate while guzzling down pints of cold beer.
I felt huge sitting there eating shrimp after shrimp. The fat on my upper arms jiggled every time I reached for my pint of beer. At one point my wife pinched my upper arm fat and smiled.
“You’re such a piggie ordering three pounds,” my wife said. “I wonder if our server thinks you’re a piggie.”
“Probably,” I said. “I just don’t know when we are coming back.”
“Maybe only a couple more times,” she said.
“Why a couple?” I said.
“Baby you’re getting so big. You’re going to be confined to the house sooner than you think. “
Then I felt my wife’s foot tapping on my fatpad under the table. She had slipped it out of her shoe and she was digging it into my fat.
“Does that turn my piggie boy on?”
“Yes,” I said. “Does it turn you on?”
“You know it does,” she said. “When we get home i want you naked on the bed. I want to try to fuck you. I want to see if I can still get to your cock. But if I can’t I’m going to cum by straddling your belly and grinding on you. I’m going to cum so hard cuz I’m going to think about how you only have two more visits here because you’re getting so big.”
I didn’t say anything. She motioned for me to finish eating, so I did. All three pounds and some of hers. Then when it was time to go my wife helped me out of the booth, the server looking on either flustered or concerned. I couldn’t tell which.
Oh honey, just look at yourself. You gained another pound, didn't you? I thought you said you were going to slow things down. You just wanted to have a little fun, enjoy that bit of pudge, and be done with it. But that was 15 pounds ago, am I right? You said you were going to stop, over and over again, but the weight just keeps piling on. You don't even give off the impression that you're even trying to slow things down. I can see you snacking all day long, enjoy some junk food here and there, and I don't know when I've last seen you drink water instead of soda. You go for seconds more and more often, sometimes even thirds, if you really like the food, and don't think I don't notice you unbuttoning those pants before dessert comes around.
Your hips are softening up, your muffin top is growing into a real belly, and even your arms are starting to strain against your sleeves. You can't tell me you don't notice how all your clothes feel tighter. In fact, when you're wearing something that used to be a bit tighter already, where your fat just flows out right now, you look hideous. Look... You know just as well what you said. Gain a bit, have some fun, lose the weight again. So far, you've only managed to do two of those things. But darling, it's fine. If you want to be a little fatty, just keep eating.
I like how your body is changing. Your boobs are getting bigger, and your ass is getting really wide and juicy. And the way your belly rubs up against me when we are in bed is both cute and really hot. You may also have noticed how I kept stocking up on your favorite snacks, knowing you'd find and eat them all. And, if I'm being completely honest, you look hotter than ever. You're turning into such a fat mess, such a beautiful, fattened piggy, that it would be a shame to stop now. I know you love this. The food, the indulgence, the fat growing on your body. Just embrace it and admit to yourself that you won't be stopping anytime soon. It's not like you'd want that anyways, right? You chose this. You know you want more ~
Why you can never go back. Once you're a feedee, you always will be. If you have given in to gluttony once, you'll keep doing so forever.
1. You're fucking up your brain. With every stuffing and every orgasm after and/or while fantasizing about how fat you'll get, you slightly alter your brain to be more obsessed with gaining. Once connections in your brain are made, once a habit is formed, it will stay there forever. You can't un-learn it, it's your new default now. Especially with habits, a simple trigger such as feeling hungry or seeing food can be enough to make you gorge. It are those habits that will be the main drive behind your rapid weight gain.
2. Your fat cells keep multiplying. While they multiply as you gain weight, they're not broken down again as you lose weight (if you'd even manage or want to do so). This means that the more fat cells your body has, the higher the statistical likelihood that glucose will end up in them, making you gain weight back, or making you even fatter. This is the main driver behind the jojo effect.
3. Social changes. The fatter you get, the more you become involved in this community. Here, everybody wants you to get fatter. You keep exposing yourself to people like me who are set out to absolutely ruin your wasteline and make you pack on as much weight as possible. It's obvious that you'll cave eventually and spiral out of control even more. You'll also feel less and less guilty for getting this fat in the first place as you're constantly being praised for it.
4. No options for exercise. When you're 10 pounds overweight, it's somewhat easy to lose 5 pounds. You'll still be able to go to the gym, go for long walks, or get some exercise in other ways to burn off a few calories. But what if you're 50 pounds overweight? Everything is more difficult then, which makes losing weight more difficult as well. What about 100 pounds, or even 200 pounds? The fat will limit your options for exercise. Eventually, the best you can do is go for a short walk around the block, which would burn approx. 50 calories at best, or about ⅓ of a chocolate chip cookie.
5. An environment designed to fatten you. Once you're down deep enough, you'll have an environment designed to fatten you. It'll keep you entertained with mind numbing and worthless content, will trigger and encourage you to eat, will keep you horny and cumming a lot and it'll simply feel too good to give up. By this point, you'll have fetishized ruining yourself with fat.
Isn't that all you've ever wanted? Given how turned on you are now I'd take that as a yes. You know you'd love it so much if this all happened to you. You'd feel so ashamed to just let yourself go like that, but nothing could compare to the feeling of bliss you'd experience when feeling all those rolls of fat on your body.
You were still excited when the end tube pressed to your lips. Feeling it push your mouth open, a bubbling vulnerability to whatever was going to flow down your throat momentarily. It felt like your whole body loosened, a vessel waiting to be filled.
Then the shake started.
At first, you can taste it. Chocolate. Rich, creamy, so sweet sliding down your tongue while you swallow. While there’s still enough space to have some control. But that only lasts a few gulps.
Then the delicious, sugary shake builds up in your cheeks, flowing faster than you can chug it down. The growing strain on your cheeks distracts you from how fast your belly is starting to fill. Fullness approaching when the feeding has just begun.
Your face feels puffy as your mouth tightens around the funnel, your greedy maw pleasantly tight with as much caloric slurry as it can manage. There’s the faintest sensation of tension on the back of your mouth, then it releases and starts flowing down your throat.
Now your thoughts start to relax. The fullness reaches your belly. That big, greedy belly that just couldn’t wait to be funneled into total submission. Your stomach goes from full to overfilled to swollen. Then it’s your favorite part, when you feel the stretch in your belly, the little radiating tingle that means you’ve pushed yourself a little fuller than last time.
Then you’re achingly full, gorged to your body’s limit. You physically admit you’re nothing but an overblown balloon brimming with calories that will metabolize into soft, doughy fat. This is how you’re meant to be handled. No chewing, no thinking, just mindlessly fattened without concern.
You laze in the warm, full-body pleasure of being this full. Beached under the combined weight of your fat body and the strain of your overfilled belly. Useless beneath your greed, fully submitted to your gluttony as you’ve always craved.
Deep down you’ve known, haven’t you? That this was the bliss you always needed. The surrender to consumption, the intoxicating overwhelm of your obese body pushed to perfection.
But that’s why you love the funnel. The funnel feeds you into your best self. Your biggest self. Your most satisfied, overfed, indulgent self. All concerns subdued by calories. All purpose smothered by pounds. You’ll feed and grow like this forever. The food will always come. You don’t have to worry or think.
You can use me as an excuse all you like. Tell everyone that I'm the one who suggests we hit a drive through (or three) anytime we leave the house. That I make you a massive breakfast, send you to work with a snack for the ride, pack you a lunch (but then send you texts about convenient fast food deals.) I keep you so busy in the evenings that you never make it to the gym. Besides, who wants to go for a run after a home cooked meal? And dessert. It's so much easier to let me snuggle you on the couch with a drink or two.
I'm sure they'll believe you.
Your tiny, fit girlfriend must be the reason you're ballooning by the day. Never mind that they see me at the gym almost every night. That I'm somehow immune to whatever has magic has ruined your once-slim figure.
You'll tell everyone it's my fault, I'll sigh softly that it's so hard to help you keep the weight off, and we'll see who they decide is telling the truth. The ever-fatter pig or his doting partner?
Let them waste their time wondering who's lying, so they never suspect it's both of us. You, keeping yourself constantly full even when I don't suggest it - and even when you're sure that I'll insist you look half-starved as soon as I see you. And me, pressing treat after treat against your lips every chance I get, keeping you stuffed and spoiled whenever I can.
Eating Himself Out of Office 2: Working from Home (BHM, WG)
This continues from the first part and is heavily inspired by @evermore-xxl's fantasy about her partner gaining a substantial amount of weight after taking an office job; their (non-feedist) partner @cryptidmothmen is also due some inspiration credit :)
~
It’s his first morning working from home after he'd eaten himself too heavy for his office chair at work. Weeks of office-subsidized meals, an increasingly-ravenous appetite, and the gentle encouragement of his loving partner have ballooned his softening body out of his wardrobe several times over. Every big part of him has become even bigger. Every roll doubled. Every fold deepened. He’s sleeping in later than usual since he doesn’t have to commute, but a rumbling hunger in his belly still wakes him up earlier than his alarm.
His girlfriend is curled against his back, her arm wrapped around his side and resting against his sizable belly. She wakes up and sees he’s already scrolling a food delivery app for breakfast. Three breakfast sandwiches from a fast food place are queued, then a fourth. He hesitates a second, then adds a fifth. A coupon offer prompts a sixth. Six. The number alone has her mind buzzing; working out the calories would have her worked up in seconds. She stirs, her hand sliding from his belly to the thick rolls at his side, settling on his back where she gently rubs, letting her fingers catch on the newly-formed folds.
“Did you want something?” he asks, punching in his employer code that subsidizes the food and delivery so the cost is close to that of the workplace cafeterias; an additional benefit for those approved to work remotely. Those cheap, filling cafeteria meals have been the major contributor to his ballooning up nearly eighty-five pounds since earning his cushy, sedentary, office-based promotion ten months ago. Several sizes up in his clothes, gradually developing a habit for six or more meals per day, and one broken office chair later, it’s left him with some rather indulgent habits.
“I’m okay, you get your breakfast,” she says, squeezing him once more before watching his soft, swollen body start to maneuver itself to standing, the weight shifting and plopping and stacking until he’s on his feet. She hears him in the kitchen making himself a bagel, slathering it in cream cheese, to tide him over until his real meal arrives.
While he’s in the shower, she gathers up some snacks and sets them into a bowl on his desk, ensuring he’ll have plenty to eat without leaving the comfort of their second bedroom, now home office. Chips, cookies, pretzels, granola bars — everything a growing guy might want to munch on throughout the workday.
“Hey where did those new pants go?” he calls from the bedroom. She joins him, seeing him laying on the bed, his joggers mostly up his thighs, but stuck against the bottom of his belly and ass. She knows these are the bigger pants. She knows that just two weeks ago they’d fit him fine, but that his thighs have been taking the bulk of his extra weight these last couple weeks. Fortunately she’s planned ahead and has the next size up tucked away in the closet. He’s grateful, but a little too winded to fully express it as he shimmies the old ones off and slides the new, huge pair slide up his chunky, soft legs.
His latest work shirt, a 4XL, fits around his rounding torso… mostly. He thinks he’d managed to fully button it, but the lowest button is forced apart too much by his belly hang to be fastened. It’s too low down below the equator of his belly anyways, so he doesn’t even notice there’s a button down that far to try. He sits himself in his gaming chair, another recent purchase that’s heavily reinforced to stand up to his weight, though she notices that his sides and butt are oozing dangerously close to the sides already. He opens his laptop to start the day, but he's barely logged in before the doorbell rings. His thick arms make to push himself from the chair, but she’s quick to tell him she’ll retrieve the food, noticing how pleased he looks to just let his weight plop back down into his seat. It's like he's meant to be doted on, she thinks as she heads for the front door.
She brings him his first delivery and can tell how he's managing to eat so much during the day: he’s nearly perfected typing and scrolling on his laptop with one hand while using the other to eat. His bites are greedy and delighted, his mouth full as he chews and instinctively grins. She glances into the room a couple times over the next half hour, watching the pile of empty breakfast sandwich foil wrappers grow until a punctuating groan and belch tells her he’s finished his first proper meal. She toasts him another bagel, smothers it in cream cheese, and wordlessly drops it off for him with a peck on his cheek while she collects his discarded wrappers.
During his first meeting of the day, she pulls out a boxed muffin mix (adds in some extra chocolate chips) and bakes a half-dozen large muffins. He wanders into the kitchen, attracted by the sweet smell, and has eaten half of them before 10:00. His lunch delivery, a family-sized order of wings and fries, shows up at 11:00. At noon, she makes them each a sandwich, his having contents proportional to his size. She replenishes his trove of desk snacks before he returns to his seat after lunch. He emerges into the kitchen shortly after to grab a muffin, a few cookies, something to drink, but the gaps between his appearances grows as the afternoon progresses. She delivers him the last muffins and a bowl of chocolate chips to round out his afternoon eating.
Bite by bite, his belly swells against his tightening shirt. She catches a glimpse of just how much belly is resting in his lap when he's sitting, typing away at whatever task he's working through. He is, she decides, very cute when he's working away like that. Naturally she grabs him some pretzels and lemonade from the fridge. She's trying to do the mental math of how many calories he must've eaten across the whole of the day, but she can't do it without losing count, remembering some snack she left off the list, or thinking of some additional thing in the cabinet he'd be delighted to see her come in with. And he is always delighted to see her entering the room with something delicious for him.
He's still lingering in his desk, his shirt unbuttoned halfway up his protruding belly as the evening rolls around. She thinks he's working late, but when dinner is nearly ready she finds he's actually relaxing in his chair, resting his hand on his middle scrolling his phone.
"Good stopping point for dinner?" she asks.
"Already?" he asks, his hands pressing on his swollen middle. "I guess I could eat," he grins. It takes him a little more effort to heave himself from his chair. She doesn't fail to notice, taking in how his body moves at this size. She would never want him hurt or uncomfortable, but her mind wanders to wondering what the weight limit of his gaming chair is. How could she not when he's so beautifully filling it up like that?
He claims he's "not that hungry" for dinner, so she just offers him a small bowl of stew with a couple buttery, homemade biscuits floating like puffy clouds on top. And whenever that bowl gets close to empty she takes it for a refill and another biscuit. He eats nine of them, slowly sinking into completely laying on the couch beneath his broth-filled, biscuit-packed belly and giving her that pleading look that prompts her hands to meet his groaning gut without hesitation.
She eases the strain, hand-feeding him a cookie as soon as he seems to have enough room for it. She's not certain whether he's hungry, can't find any motivation to refuse the next cookie, or just enjoys having her attention so fully on him like this. She makes it easy for him, running her hands along the swelling softness of his sides, shoulders, back, arms and legs. She traces every stretch mark, affectionally feeding and soothing him until he's too heavy and tired to get up. They snuggle together on the couch late into the evening until he's sufficiently mobile and motivated to journey back to their bed.
It feels like a normal day for him. Eating that much, nearly beaching himself by the end of it. But for her this is the first day of a new routine.
Two weeks at home shouldn't have been enough time to leave too much of an impact on his waistline or his habits…
But by the time he's notified that his new office chair is available, he's gotten quite acclimated to his lifestyle working from home. She's evolved from nonchalantly offering him snacks throughout the day to more playful, outright enabling and challenging his appetite. He's moved less and eaten more in these last two weeks than ever before, but he doesn't really feel how much he's been enabled until his first day returning to his office.
Getting dressed was a dual effort: she helped him get tucked into his shirt and pants so he didn't have to fuss with the buttons. Tying his shoes was sure to be a strain, but she took care of it without even needing him to ask. An extra big breakfast had his tight shirt straining for dear life, but she offers him an enormous sweater that gave him some leeway on some of the tighter buttons, should he need it.
With his lunchbox as fit to burst as he was, he heads out the door and slowly maneuvers the six steps down to the driveway, feeling his walk has started moving him side to side more than before; his weight forcing his movement to adopt the slightest of waddles. She watches him make his way down the driveway, hesitate, then push himself into the seat of the car, almost like he was getting too big to fit. She tells herself she's just fantasizing about that last detail, but she can't be sure with how big he's looking.
She's thinking about what he'd be most excited to see she's baked for him when he arrives home. She's been approved to work remotely as long as she likes, and even with him out of the house there's plenty for her to do. She finds herself so deep in thought about how cute and big he's looking that she almost misses his work bag sitting on the counter. Grabbing it and darting down the stairs with ease, she makes it to the car window before he's managed to pull out from the driveway.
"You'll need this," she says, as he rolls down the window.
His chunky hand reaches out to meet hers, but she's locked onto two details inside the car. First, his belly is absolutely pressing against the steering wheel. Not just brushing against it; even with the seat all the way back, his belly is firmly resting against the wheel, bulging above and below it. Second, his lunchbox is already half-eaten. Even after a full breakfast, he's not even made it out of the driveway before breaking into the food she's packed for him. He looks a little sheepish that she's noticed, like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't, but she gives him a kiss on his plump cheek and says she'll be excited to see him home later.
He munches away on his remaining snacks during the short commute, leaving the packaging remnants in his car to clear out when he gets home. The walk to his office feels longer than he remembered, but he's forgotten all about that once he's got a double cafeteria breakfast in front of him. Buttery croissants, two meat and cheese omelettes, fruit, a couple muffins. His only limit seems to be the physical space on his tray. But even getting lost in the first of the day's delicious meals can't totally distract him from the repeated reminders that he has, without a doubt, gotten much bigger.
The sides of the bathroom stalls feel snug. His hands accidentally hit on the doorway of his office when he walks through. There's a creaking under his feet when he walks down one particular section of hallway that he's sure he'd have noticed before. The new chair in his office is certainly sturdy, but it's not exactly comfortable and seems to be a little too narrow for his butt. Instead of breaking it in, he elects to take his meetings in the cafeteria for the rest of the day. No one minds the different meeting location, but inevitably each of his coworkers wants to grab a snack, presenting him with ample opportunities to grab additional meal after meal. He's topped himself out after eight meals over the course of the day, truly pinned to the cafeteria bench by the end of his final meeting, struggling to muster the strength to wobble to his car and commute home.
The journey feels long. The car feels like it's squeezing him. The drive feels unpleasant without something to snack on. The driveway feels unending. The steps up to the door feel harder than he remembers. But everything feels right again when he's out of his uncomfortable office clothes and splayed out on his couch munching on some (pre-dinner) peanut butter brownies.
"How'd you make out today?" she asks from the kitchen, her hands busy preparing the next delicious meal he'll devour.
"Eh," he says, groaning a little as he adjusts himself under the weight of his belly. "Much prefer working from home. I missed you, of course. But it's easier being here and all."
"Why don't you put in for more remote days?" she says. "Just go in for the important meetings, I'm sure your boss won't mind."
He realizes she's right. Being home for two weeks hardly seemed to make a difference in his work output, but going into the office has clearly left a cloud of inconvenience hanging over his mood and the quality of his day.
So he does exactly that. And he finds that really there aren't that many important meetings. He relishes finding his calendar open enough that he can talk himself into staying home the following day. And the day after that. And then staying home the remainder of the week feels reasonable.
She loves getting to work with him from home, too. Knowing he's getting more than enough to eat. Having cute moments to admire and joke with each other during the day. Watching her love for him slowly swell his softening body out further and further with each passing meal. The accumulating bloat of his middle settling into more weight as the days compound into weeks.
He goes in once after a month, then stays home for six uninterrupted weeks following that. She's watching him practically swell by the day. Then comes the occasion he very truly must commute in for.
His boss, its been announced, is retiring. There's a big meeting about the division, and a happy hour following that to send the boss off in celebratory fashion.
"How about I drive you in?" she suggests, watching the color drain from his face as he tries his very best to squeeze into the largest set of pants she's ordered for him to date. "That way you can have some drinks, if you like," she says, knowing he's unlikely to fit behind the wheel based on her last glimpse of his driving.
He agrees, flushing a little when he has to ask for her help to scoot the passenger seat back all the way after not being able to reach the release underneath the seat himself. She's warm and nonchalant, telling him how much fun he'll have at his big work event.
And she's right. He jokes with his coworkers, makes small talk, snacks on enough appetizers to make a meal even by his standards, takes a few drinks down, and then he learns some news that he can't wait to share when he gets home to his girlfriend.
The car dips heavily to one side when he plops down in the car that evening, his hands grabbing at the button of his pants under his heavy belly to undo it before he bursts them open. He's a little goofy from his drinking, playing coy with her about the big news he gets to share with her, insisting it waits until they arrive home.
She prods him, verbally and then with her fingers on his exposed belly, but he doesn't release his secret until he's walking up the front steps. He's made it up the first three when he pauses, taking a big breath, then continues up the last three, pausing in the doorway. She means to be looking at his grinning face, but all she can see is that his sides are literally pressing against both sides of the doorway as he rests against it.
"I got the big promotion," he says. She's elated, of course, taking in every benefit this will mean for him professionally. More money will be great, especially since their food budget has been ballooning recently…
He's more than prepared for the workload. She shares his celebration eagerly, watching him add more and more about how excited he is, his proud face wobbling and full and cute.
"And now that I'm the boss, I'm deciding that I can work from home full-time," he says with a grin, pushing himself through the front door.
She's stopped still at the foot of the stairs, beaming up at him with so much love and anticipation in her heart, knowing that every extra dollar of this promotion is going to be undoubtedly sunk into softening him up even more.
The only question she has now is how big he'll end up getting.
"This is going to be huge for you, babe," she says, following him in, going for the kitchen to get him something to eat.
Y’all seem to really like Sebby over here, heres a comp of some sketches I did early this year :3
(Fic below these)
So i accidentally wrote and fic under this so enjoy!
A BIG synopsis of my head cannon here is he’s always had a problem either his weight and self esteem issues. Led him to wearing large clothing, sweat shirts and not going outside much. But all changed when he met Farmer (Liv). She met him when he was out by his lake, asking to join him while she fished.
“Aren’t we all like skipping rocks over the water, eventually were all gonna sink”
“It isn’t about the sinking part, its about the skip”
“What do you mean?”
And the conversation lasted hours…
Afterward when it got dark, she ends up invited him over to cook to his she caught for both of them, well he ended up eating most of it.
Weeks go by and they get into the habit of meeting at their spot and having dinner. Sebastian hadn’t noticed any changes to himself compared to how he used to be.. just life seemed more… tolerable? Even if his waist band started to feel tighter.
Eventually they started hanging out with Sebby’s friends, Sam and Abiand getting close with all of them. As they were walking back home…
“Hey, wanna come hang at my room for a bit?”
Farmer smiled and agreed ofc, it was a wonderful night but as Sebby took off his hoodie, farmer caught a glimpse of his overhang, framed but the lifted brim of his shirt. Her face turned flush as she turned away.
What was that?
She didn’t think much as the night went on, playing video games and watching a movie.
Things moved forward fairly quickly after that, first kiss, dates and all that comes with… but all this eating and lounging was not doing well on Sebby’s psyche. On one hand, he’s the happiest hes ever been in his life, on the other hand… hes the heaviest. He stomach now comfortably hugged by his used to be oversized t’shirts, none of his skinny jeans fit and worst, his hoodies can’t even hide his tummy.
He stares in the mirror at himself.
How can she love me like this, I’m huge.
They had a date planned that evening with of course, her fabulous cooking. And OF COURSE it was his favorite, pumpkin soup.
He arrived at her place layered in a sweater and jacket over the top. She offered to hang it up but he declined, saying he’s got chills.
I thought he liked the winter cold?
They had dinner, Seb tried to atleast hold back alittle but fully gave into his comfort food and had two large bowls which left him sloshy and sluggish. He could feel his belly tight against the brim of his sweat pants and quickly adjusts it under his overhang when felt so relieving.
“Are you still hungry? There’s plenty left”
“No, no, that was so good honey but I’m full” how is she still offering me more after I just ate so much so fast it could have been mistaken as a competition.
He helped her clean up and wasted no time sprawling out on the couch. Liv close to follow grabbing the remote and at the end of the couch to prep for laying is what ever couch space is left after Sebby took up like 90% of it.
“Interstellar?”
“Yeah~”
Liv had already seen like 20 times but her focus was never gonna be on the movie.
As Sebby laid back, his left arm over his head to rest against which sequentially lifted his shirt. A alittle revealing his happy trail, plush and rising over waist band. Her face flush, she caught herself watching as it lifted and lowered with every one of his breaths.
Sebby felt a-little colder then hes used to on the couch and realized it directly corilated to Liv laying next to him. He looks up to see her staring, looking at his gut then once she meets his eyes, turns away.
A wave of pure distress washes over Seb, he blood tuns cold.
She just found out I’ve gotten fat
He quickly moved his sweater down to cover and leans up slightly.
“Hey hey whats wrong” in and extremely shaky voice just teetering on an edge waiting for her to land a heavy blow to his self worth.
“You just… you just look so hot right now.. I cant take it” saying this completely facing away from him, she would explode looking at him.
His gaze freezes in place looking at her, the silhouette of hands over her face.
“Are you serious?” In the softest tone he could muster, he was so everywhere in emotion, he couldn’t decide on which to focus on.
She turns around and nods, trying to keep her focus on his face and not his plump pecs pressing against the sweater.
“But… even with all this fat? ” his face tilting more to sadness as he looks down and grabs the side on his belly through the sweater.
For liv, this was like a dam bursting, she couldn’t keep it in any longer.
“Sweety…You’ve been getting hotter the fat you’ve gotten”
They both cover there mouth in unison.
“I can’t believe i just said that.” Said live is a soft tone.
“Me neither” Sebby also said matching her tone.
There was a very pregnant pause between them.
Sebby had to break the tense, he couldnt keep tell how embarrassed and horney his poor girlfriend was. He had to help.
“Wanna touch it”
He lifted his sweater a but revealing his so much soft belly then the last time she saw it a few months ago.
“Oh Sebby” she said in the most yearning voices
“Just be gentle, im so stuffed right now” as he leaned back and adjusted his seating, even looking alittle fatter with the way he arched his back slightly
“Of course baby, I’ll take good care of you”she couldn’t even finish her sentence before moving in front of him with his legs behind her.
She took her time moving up his shirt further, display more of her love on him. The upper belly clearly distended from all the soup and churning from and heavy cream she used in the recipe.
She began with sliding his hands to the side of his body, feeling the softness of his fat and the heaviness of his gut. Making small circles, large circles, some grabs slight giggles. All this while Sebby is a mix of fearfully on edge do to the strangeness of this but immensely inthralled with her warm silky hands messaging his dinner. He let out a strand burp which made his belly tense for a second which sent Liv a wave of heat through her body and down to her crotch.
She was trying to seem calm but he legs started to gently gitter which Sebby mistook for her being cold. He leaned up and grabbed the blanket on the top rim of the couch and gently threw it around the back on her and pulled her in with it.
“Lets cuddle” which she nodded too, not up for making to many decisions now with how overwhelmed she was.
She slid between the sliver on couch left between Sebbys side and love handles. Since the gate had been broken, he hand mysteriously found itself under the softness of his underbelly, cupping it in her hand.
“So this is gonna be the new normal now huh?”
“If you don’t want me to I can stop.” As he hand slightly lets go, she feels a large even warmer hand stop hers and move it back to its postion.
“No no, you feel really nice”
Having something he’s despised for so long be worshipped was like a drug to him. Seeing her reactions and nervousness about what she enjoyed… he couldn’t help but relate and want to make her happier.
-fin (for now)
Damn this became a novel, i was having to much fun. Lmk if y’all would want a fic of them :3
Ever since I know you I have loved you with all my heart. I always wanted to get close to you and say hi but I was just the weird goth girl and you... you were always the personification of perfection, full of energy, charismatic... but why, why did you have to be so flirty with everyone...
I had to do something, you made me do this. You know how much I love you. I love you so much I took you with me and the best way to ensure you love me back and never ever leave my side was doing this to you, baby. I know you may think there was a better way to do it but was there? You are here with me, helpless, useless... broken.
I love you more now, I think you look a thousand times better and a thousand times heavier too... hehe. Mmm, look at all that soft, heavy flesh... your body so swollen and ruined for me. No one would even recognize you if I let you escape. I mean it’s not like you would be able to get far with that massive, wobbling obese body anyway... but those wanted signs have a whole different person from what I’m seeing right now. Your once perfect form buried under all this delicious fat I stuffed into you.
No one would love you now, just me. You no longer have a life out there, now all you have is me until your last breath. Don’t worry, I’m not in a rush. I want to enjoy every terrified yet dependent look on your face, hear you trying so desperately to grasp some air with your ruined lungs, seeing you try to move your fat wobbling obese body like if you still could do something... fuck, it makes me so wet watching you struggle like that.
I will feed you to an early death but I will enjoy every second I have. Every bite, every whimper, every heavy gasp as I push more into you... You’re mine now, all mine. Open up, my perfect, broken love.
(The gorgeus goth girl on the pic is Bellbobagginses on Instagram)
You love gluttony. You need it not to be forced, not put on for your benefit, but to be its own kind of unignorable compulsion.
You’re good at spotting this quality in people, this certain insatiability… and you’ve come to need it.
You first noticed he had this essential quality about him on your first date. You replayed the image of how quickly he scarfed down his carbonara over and over again as you lay in bed that night.
Feeling the heat swell in between your legs as you remember how he smirked at you as he walked you home; he tilted his head and asked “So you like chubby guys, huh?”
You blush in embarrassment at your own over-enthused reply, “Yes, actually I prefer them!”
He has no idea just how deep it goes…
In reality, you need hunger that can be likened to lust — innate and animalistic.
For him, it’s an irresistible instinct. He may try his hardest to fight against it, but it overtakes him anyway
He always cleans his plate and wishes for more. He devours what’s in front of him with so much delight that he overlooks the quantity.
One time, you two were sitting on a park bench when he admitted to you that he was once “as heavy as 290.” You blacked out after that, you simply don’t remember the rest of the conversation. All there was after that was 290. 290. 290. You hope your reaction wasn’t too incredulous.
Usually after a hearty meal, he’ll slowly rise from his chair and place a hand on his soft, protruding belly. Sometimes he’ll even let out a sigh of both contentment and resignation as he says, “Oof, I’m actually really full.” Or “I ate that way too quickly.” You wonder if he’s saying this just for you, if he secretly knows. You hope that he does.
You love to see his t-shirt pucker out at the hem, his belly pressing the fabric away from him. Your eyes can’t help but linger over the straining fabric around his soft center. After all, with any slight movement there’s a chance that you could see a doughy crescent of pudge peak out.
As you lie in bed together, you try your hardest to be casual as your breath hitches in your chest. It feels as though you’re conducting advanced calculations — if you drape your hand around the curve of his bulging mass will he notice? What if you place your arm directly underneath his plush overhang, is that more discreet? Will he notice how your pulse quickens? If you press the full plane of your palm against his taut yet supple midsection when he’s this full, will he be embarrassed? Does he realize how desperately you want him? How transfixed you are by his bulk?
When he turns over to envelope you in a hug, and you feel all of him pressed against every inch of you — can he sense your desperation for his flesh? Does he realize that no matter how much of him you get — no matter if you get to grab every fold, explore every cushy crevice — that it will never be enough? When you look at him, all you can think is squeeze, bite, taste, devour. Surely your eyes betray you. That’s why it’s so hard to meet his gaze.
He may be the one eating, but you are the one that’s always hungry.
You ache for his heavy thrusts. You thank some unnamed ancient god for his powerful shoulders and robust arms that allow him to enter you so forcefully. The brawn that lies just beneath his delectable, velvety layer of chub is a reminder of just how formidable he is.
And lastly, as he finally unleashes his load, as if to give you a parting gift, the muscles he was using to hold himself up and hold himself back relax. A heavy mound of roundness crashes against you. For a fleeting moment, you get to be pinned down by the weight of your own unmentionable desire. You don’t have to deny, you don’t have to evade, you don’t have to pretend. You can just be.
This is your own private, fat-fetishizing, chubby-chasing, adipose-admiring rapture.
“now where do you think you’re going?” and getting pulled back by the hips when you start backing up from it bc it’s too big and you’re stuffed so full you can barely breathe and your legs shake as they push in even deeper
"I'm still hungry" you say to yourself, after finishing what should have been a big meal. You really shouldn't have more, you've been gaining a few pounds. But then again why shouldn't you keep eating, if you're hungry? That's your body telling you that you need more…
"I'm hungry again," you mutter to yourself, so soon after finishing your meal. The fridge feels so far away when you're this full, but you can tell you're not too full to heave yourself up and get a snack. You really ought to cut back, but it's hard to think about anything else once you start thinking about food…
"I'm not even hungry," you admit to yourself, finding your way to the kitchen again so soon after eating, pulling more treats out of your cabinets. "Snacks" and "meals" don't really mean anything anymore. It's just a constant stream of food filling you up, barely any time to enjoy what you eat as you cram bite after bite into your straining, overstretched stomach…
"Oh god, I'm so hungry," you whimper to yourself, waking up in the middle of the night, reaching over your bloat and bulk only as far as your bedside table to find something sweet to placate your immense appetite a little longer. Going more than a couple hours without eating just isn't realistic at this point, not at your size…
"You're hungry, aren't you?" your feeder tells you, pushing another bite of your favorite takeout to your lips. You can practically feel yourself getting fatter as you chew, but you ignore the intense, bloated feeling in your stomach and the itching of your stretch marks, too enamored with never worrying for more than a few seconds when the next bite is coming…
"Are you still hungry?" your feeder asks, patting your soft, swollen belly, which has really gotten inconveniently heavy at this point, hasn't it? Pinning you down like this...
You realize that you don't even know anymore. You haven't actually been hungry in a while, have you? You've just trained yourself to eat and eat and eat, losing all sense of whether your body can handle another bite, nevermind whether it needs more food…
But you just going to keep eating and eating, aren't you? You'll keep stuffing and gorging, no matter how heavy you get.
You outgrew hunger many, many pounds ago, didn't you?
literally- just eating whatever you please when you please because you feel like it. if something tastes good, you keep eating it, even if you’re feeling a little full because you want to savor the taste.
the best meals are heavy and homey and cozy and best when piping hot, filling a soft tummy with the warmest heft.
and oh my gosh- getting into bed after one of those hot, filling, dinners? taking off your bra and your pants, slipping into the biggest, loosest t shirt you can find, and fully relaxing into the fluffy warm blankets and pillows -
soft groans of complete satisfaction and maybe a bit of over indulgence, just the point where it feels like pure pleasure. completely unable to keep your hands off your softened gut. soft burps slipping from your lips and you relax fully, maybe you blush to yourself, maybe you sigh in relief.
haze starts to overtake but that’s okay because you’ve got no where to be.
Blueberries whose cute puffy cheeks are too full of juice to even open their helpless little mouths...
Theycan't speak, only groan and grunt and whimper. Sign language is out because most signs require the hands to be able to, yknow. Actually move around. (Even worse if said hands have already gone under! >:3)
They can only be fed liquids because their keepers can barely shove a straw through said lips. A particularly mean caretaker could easily fatten them up as much as they like, and there's nothing they can do about it. What are they going to do, not swallow? And drown in their own drink?
Their caretaker insists that a protective layer of fat will keep them safe, but it doesn't make it any less uncomfortable to have a tube shoved between your lips and be left there to grow.
“Aww, poor piggy. Did you eat too much? That’s okay, we can take a break for now..”
I can’t help but pity you a bit when you get like this. In too deep, flushed and struggling to catch your breath, stuck in place like a beached whale.
“You’ve been so good for me, piggy.” I purr in your ear, playing with your hair. “And it’s gotten me all worked up.” I slip off my shorts and panties and, in a smooth motion, slide myself across your thighs so I sit straddling you. I reach a hand out to brush your stuffed gut and you whimper in pain. You would have flinched away if you weren’t weighed down right now.
“Aw, it’s okay, piggy. Don’t you want to make me feel good?” The whimpers of pain begin to mix with pleasure as I lightly run my hand around your belly. “Good boy.”
I rise onto my knees and start slowly grinding my heat against your fatpad. I brush lightly, just barely touching as I move up to your lower stomach, running my wet pussy up and down the line of your happy trail. I relish in every reaction you give me: every whine and moan, every whimper of pain and pleasure and overstimulation. You shake underneath me with pleasure and anticipation.
I stop for a second when I brush against your dick, rock-hard and half-buried in the soft blubber of your fat pad and inner thighs. Of course, your boxers are already damp. “You’ve really got no self control at all, do you?” I muse. Pathetic.
I rub myself over your tip, teasing myself with slow, circular motions. The roughness of the material of your boxers against my swollen clit makes me moan with pleasure.
“Yeah, you like that..?” You murmur through panted breaths.
I slow, stop.
“Don’t pretend like you’re doing any work here, fatty.” I start again, rubbing progressively harder circles against you. “All you’ve done is sit here and stuff yourself into a useless pile of lard. That’s your role, big boy. Sit here, eat yourself even fatter and more pathetic than you were before, and let me get off on it. Don’t forget it.”
You let out a loud moan as you soak through your boxers again. I don’t let up.
“Too- hard. It hurts—“ I interrupt your complaint with another donut shoved into your open mouth. You let out several muffled whines and moans through the mouthful as I rub myself against you 3 more times. After one final hard circle against your cock, I pull away and look at you.
You look huge. Covered in thick, heavy fat. Breathing heavily from the strain of your constant hedonism, the effects of your gluttonous habits are written all over your body.
Your eyes are fixed on me, silently pleading but half-lidded, like you’re exhausted. Your cheeks are round and smeared with chocolate icing. Your jaw is still working on the donut, and the chins under it jiggle as you chew.
You look pathetic. Your neck and shoulders are softened with fat, your arms round and flabby. Your chest has been buried underneath two fat man-tits, followed by thick rolls of fat that stretch all the way to your back.
Your stomach is the star of the show, though. The upper half, swollen from all the food you stuffed down, pushes up against your tits and upper rolls. From there it hangs forward, heavy and round and red, littered with stretch marks. It commands space in your lap, and stretches around your hips into big, puffy love handles.
—
a/n: i might add more to this later (likee some actual sex 🙂↕️), but i like what i have rn :p . i cant keep waiting for everything to be perfect or whatever to post it yk.
You finish chewing and swallow with another whine.
“Are you ready to be a good boy?”
You let out a small noise of agreement. Most days I would have forced a proper response out of you, but you look so dazed and stupid I don’t even bother.
“Good. Lean back, big boy” I instruct, and you oblige. I tug your tight boxers down, motioning for you to lift your hips. You grunt with the effort, lifting them just enough for me to pull the boxers under the plush of your ass before plopping back down heavily and letting out a sigh.
Your dick springs up when I pull the boxers off your front, and I grab and stroke it softly. The poor thing is now a few inches shorter than it used to be, surrounded by and buried in soft lard. I lower my head and give a light, tentative lick to the crease between your fatpad and your thigh, then a long, flat lick along the exposed length of your cock. This elicits a few increasingly pathetic whimpers from you.
“You’re such a pig,” I pull away and take in the sight of your huge body, my eyes filled with lust. “You’ve really let yourself go, huh?” I bite my lip, walk my fingers up the side of your stomach. You nod quickly, half-lidded eyes pained with need and desperation. I climb onto your lap once more, motioning for you to hold your belly up so I can get closer.
“What a useless pig you’ve become.” I position my near dripping cunt over you. “Say it.”
“I’m a pig— Ohhh, fuck.” You moan as I lower myself onto your cock. I take it all (all that’s left, anyway) and rest my hips on your plush thighs to give myself a chance to adjust. You let out a low moan when I slap your swollen gut. “Mhmm. And what else?”
“F-fuck. I’m—” You struggle to focus as I start riding your cock. “I have no self-control. I’m ruining myself. I keep eating and stuffing myself and I can’t stop. Unnnh- I’m a fat, worthless pig.” You’re out of breath.
“Good boy,” I praise. I grab onto your love handles and the rest of your body jiggles with them. We continue on like this for few minutes: me grabbing at and playing with the fat hanging off your helpless body as your whimpers and moans get increasingly louder and more pathetic between each struggling breath.
“Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna- I’m—” I feel the heat rush inside of me before you can finish your sentence. I slow to a stop, resting on your thighs as your cum dribbles out of me. You continue with your panting, big gut rising up and down with each breath.
After a minute, I lean over your belly and turn your chubby face towards me. With your eyes glazed over, you almost look like an animal.
A dumb pig.
“That was pretty quick, piggy. Seems like you have even less control over your dick than you do over your appetite.” I smirk. No response from you; you’re too tired. “Aw, maybe I should cut you some slack.. Sitting there and letting me do all the work must be soo exhausting.”
I pull off of you and stand up. Still no verbal response, but you whine softly when I pull away. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but you still have some more work to do.” You turn your eyes towards the box of donuts on the end table next to you; there are still four left. You let out a pathetic whimper.
“Don’t whine, big boy. Be a good piggy and finish these up for me.” 😘
— — —
a/n: my first post is getting a little attention (yayy!) so that inspired me to wrap this part up :) thank you guys :p
"Help...please....I can't stop I can't stop I ca-ouuuughhhh."
A reinforced bedframe. Who knew it would go this far.
"I *gasp* can't stop myself anymore *sob* please you need to help me stop."
The muffled hum of the vibrator sang quietly beneath a mound of lard that suggested what might've been a crotch.
"I- ffffuuuuuc- I *hic* please I *gasp* can't cuuuuu- *gasp* anymore."
Was this room always this small? You're just so big these days I guess every room is small compared to you.
"Please please *gasp* I don't want this-I can't- ouugggh I-"
I push another handful of food past your lips. There's something so beautiful in the way you cry when you're pushed to the absolute edge. Even a wolf must admire the beauty of a doe in the moments just before it lands its killing blow.
Unfortunately for you I don't intend to let you off so mercifully. After all, you've also ruined my life, as much as I've ruined yours.
I was on my way to finishing my doctorate. Mere months away from giving my dissertation. How did things slip away? I guess they had been building for years at this point. Ever since we met most likely. Despite our mutual agreement to keep this a purely occasional indulgence, greed got the best of us both. Perhaps the turning point was when you started calling out of work after a big stuffing. Or when I had to take another year to work on my thesis after obessessing over the best way to make you swell.
Skipped hangouts with friends. A slowly decaying social life. Changing financial considerations. Denial. Lots of denial.
Every limit, every boundary, every ounce of caution was slowly devoured by this desire to make you grow at all costs.
Now look at you. Now look at us. I guess this is what we deserve...our just deserts.
"I'm so fucking big please....you need to stop me...I can't stop eating.... *hic* I came so much already...please *hic*"
...
"I'm sorry...but this is who we are now."
A pathetic hiccup shook your massive frame as you sniffled and stared deeply with glassy brown eyes...a mix of fear, loathing, and an insatiable desire to be fucked and fattened within them.
thoughts on nonmutual mommy feeding stuff? i've always been a sucker for mother figures (or literal mothers) who fatten their children(figures) up many times their size
To be honest, I fucking love it. I’m obsessed with caring, nurturing mother figures who love their children (or child-like figures) so deeply and intensely that they pamper and overfeed them with endless devotion. They pour all that love and care into fattening them up until they’re massively obese—soft, heavy, and completely helpless—barely able to move or do anything on their own. In the end, their “babies” become totally dependent on Mommy for everything, relying on her for every little need.
Just imagine a skinny, weak person — not only physically, but mentally too. They don’t have many friends and, of course, they’ve never had a partner. They never leave their home, all because their mother is so protective and caring. She doesn’t want anything to happen to them; the outside world is such a cruel, terrible place. Anything could happen… anyone could take them far away from their loving mother.But now they’ve entered what you could call a rebel phase. They disobey their mother, they threaten to go outside and talk to more people. How dare they? How could they even think of leaving their loving mother alone after everything she’s done for them…?So one day, she decides what she will do. She will make sure they grow so fat and useless that they can never leave her. She will show them that their whole world is their mother, just as her whole world is them.She starts feeding them nonstop, the highest-calorie foods she can make, not allowing them to move a single finger. She does everything for them — showering them, dressing them, feeding them, and rubbing their tight, swollen belly after they can’t take another bite. Sure, at first they complain and try to do something to stop it, but every time they do, they see the sad face on their mother. Seeing how someone who loves you so much looks so heartbroken because of you makes them far more vulnerable than they ever thought possible. And with time… they break.Nowadays, you only see a massive, helpless blob lying on their reinforced bed. Their eyes have an empty, hazy stare. They don’t even talk anymore — they barely grunt and moan when they want something. The only time their eyes light up with that weak, needy spark is when their mother leans over their enormous soft body and tells them how good they are, how much she loves them, how much better they look this way — all heavy, soft, and deliciously fat. She has so much more of them to hug, to squeeze, to kiss, and to love… and she is nowhere near done.
I have MANYYYY, and I love finding new writers in this niche so I'm dying to see other people's recs.
In no particular order:
eratospen's Eastwick - This story has a whole polyamorous relationship deal, so there's definitely female feeder/male feedee scenes, but also male feeder/male feedee and male feeder/female feedee scenes. They're all really fucking good. The historical setting is also fun and well-written. Nerdy bisexual fever dream of a story tbh.
JusticeLikeLightning's Controlling An Appetite - One-shot fem feeder/bhm feedee that's got that really yummy push-pull of him panicking over how big he's getting, her nominally claiming she'll help him diet, both of them knowing there's no way he's ever going to be able to stop eating.
@fatterbiggersofter has written a ton of excellent stuff, but I'm going to highlight Caloriemaxxing here. It's a great sketch of a relationship between these two characters--an ungendered feeder, and a bhm feedee--and hot but also really sweet and cute. Perfect soft feedism.
EncouragingGrowth's Sweet Domesticity - Female feeder/SSBHM feedee. This one is, initially, a cute stuffing scene, but it becomes clear that Elsie isn't quite as sweet and harmless as she appears. Well-written, great descriptions.
@excellentbirdsy2k also has a bunch of great stories, but Snuggle Weight is as adorable and sweet as it sounds. First person, ungendered feedee and female feeder.
ahhhh I'm beaming to have been tagged in this! I've been trying my hand at writing more F feeder/M feedee stories and I'm delighted to make the list and have more stories to check out :)
@wafflekink has a lot of great writing and I'd be remiss not to pander and recommend A Line of Soft Princes which isn't strictly F/M, but is among my favorites.
I'll throw a couple of my favorite F/M feeder/feedee stories in as well:
butterfly_belly's ongoing Let's See Where the Year Takes Us is a great FFA admits/embraces her feedist tendencies to/with her BHM partner story — they write the relationship dynamics exceptionally well and the premise for each scene is super fun across a year.
soft_scribbles All of You is a decadent blend of magic and weight gain in long form storytelling. I haven't read a word of ACOTAR so I can't speak to the story/character similarities, but I'm a big fantasy reader and this one hooked me in with the plot as much as the feedism dynamics.
TheSpookyEnd's The NEET Trap is a one-shot with a pretty fast progression in terms of size, but hits something just right for me on the corruption and dom/sub angle between a female feeder who knows exactly what she wants and shapes ambling guy into growing into that image.
Hope we can keep the recommendation train going and continue highlighting great stories in this vein!
