getting pretty hungry over here

38, 325lbs feedee (mostly), and pan. no minors are allowed here, and neither are republicans for that matter

[goodboyeatlots]

Hello lovely hot people, I'm a feedee and I'm here to play around and chat with nice fatties and feeders. Once I finally tipped the scales over 300 pounds, I guess I kind of treated that as the point of no return. I'm gaining weight more or less accidentally through sheer no willpower-having gluttony. Also, this blog is adults only so minors begone!

[brendakthedonutgirl]

Ok, who else treats "all-you-can-eat" as a direct challenge?

[goodboyeatlots]

If they didn't want me eating all I could, why would they call the place that?

[falstaff9000]

My wife knows I’m only about 30 lbs away from not being able to pleasure myself anymore and she has been aggressively overfeeding me. My favorite Mexican food, takeout, pastries, pie, cake, shakes, everything. She wants my cock completely submerged in fatpad. 100% buried. It’s of no use to her anyway. She reaches orgasm just by straddling my belly and riding me, grinding deep into my fat. “It’s the sound of your moobs slapping together,” she once said. “It gets me every time.”

[fatgaldraws]

Building up my fat meme collection while too sick to draw

[sillysoftie]

IMO, holding abusers in the community accountable is more important than worrying about the community’s public image; like, normies were never gonna approve or understand this kink community.

I understand if the recent doc might have you feeling bad about having this kink. I’m still gonna encourage you to keep your “not all feeders“ & “not all men” to yourself.

A lot of people in the community are survivors of things you don’t know shit about. We need to protect each other and keep folks accountable.

[thedumplin]

FETISH = CONSENT

Without consent it isn’t fetish, it is abuse.

WITHOUT. CONSENT. IT. IS. ABUSE.

Call it what it is, and don’t blame a kink for what ABUSERS do.

[the-2nd-one]

I want a den of fat stoners (300lbs-450lbs, some 500lbs) to use me as their errand girl. Make me pick up an obscene amount of food and objectify me as a group. Then they’ll get me high and because I’m smaller than them, don’t smoke as much as them if ever, it hits me worse than it does them.

They don’t need brute strength to pin me down or keep me from moving when they have such heavy bellies and wide asses and god they’re so close to breaking a bone or turning my stomach as they rough me around.

I get fucked by every single one of them. Like I’m just another thing in their rotation. And they can tell just how badly I want it, even though when I’m sober I’m so reserved and disgusted by them.

[goodboyeatlots]

This is hot af. You were looking for prompts but this is like, the greatest story prompt I've heard in a long while.

[makemewobble]

Ugh I just want nothing more than an endless breakfast buffet

In desperate need of chicken in waffles in such concerning amounts that it’d give the dietician a heart attack

[goodboyeatlots]

[thedumplin]

FETISH = CONSENT

Without consent it isn’t fetish, it is abuse.

WITHOUT. CONSENT. IT. IS. ABUSE.

Call it what it is, and don’t blame a kink for what ABUSERS do.

[funnier-as-a-feedist]

[silkspiderrr]

Finally watching An American Werewolf and I was not aware there was going be nurse forcefeeding 🫠

[themfatal]

oh?

you don’t… you don’t want to finish eating this?

i have to… stop?

oh.

oh…

oh well…

i believed… sorry, those were my expectations.

of course you can do anything you want, darling, it’s just…

yeah, yeah, i’m fine. i swear, i’m perfectly fine.

so… i’ll have to… just trash the rest?

are you… are you completely sure you don’t want to finish it?

i mean, what a waste. the food? aah, yeah, i was totally talking about the food, ahah

oh, don’t worry about me, piggy.

no, i’m not making “that face”.

i just thought we were waaay past all of this ordeal.

you know how it works, don’t you?

i go to work, i make money, i buy the food, you eat the food.

it’s so simple that even an animal would happily comply.

but not you, uh? because “you’re too full” now.

listen to me… i’m gonna trash this.

and since this specific food is too filling for your poor piggy body, you’ll never have it anymore.

yeah, you heard correctly: i’m never buying it anymore.

are you ready to give it up forever?

…what a good girl.

eat it up.

fill this lard sack you have as a stomach… you know you need it.

see?

it wasn’t so difficult, after all.

[keep-eating-pig]

🫠🫠🫠

[lordofthelard]

If you aren't temporarily immobilized after the last bite, it doesn't qualify as a proper meal.

[fiercefitfemme]

This and then once you feel like you might be able to move again, it's time for dessert 😈

[the-2nd-one]

So, I really liked the failing diet one from earlier. How about if this diet was brought on by comments from family members or friends. Nothing mean, but "hey man, maybe you should try to drop a few pounds. Your GF is in pretty good shape, maybe she can help you lose a little weight." Of course the feeder GF agrees in front of the family, but really she's going to keep doing what she's been doing. "Sabotaging" the diet, so to speak. A few months go by and by the time the next family get together happens, he's even fatter. She's making excuses for him, while also piling his plates full of food in front of everyone.

I imagine he’s told this by his mom or brother or something, and his brain short circuits.

He thinks about his girlfriend begging for him to hold up his belly to push onto his cock. Begging for it. He thinks about how there’s so little of his lap left, his girlfriend sits on the shelf of his belly and sighs on impact like it’s pleasuring her. He thinks about how giggly she gets when his hand can’t fit in the Pringles can and he has to feed them to him when he’s too tired to tip them out.

Their relationship didn’t start by two feedists meeting wittingly, but it’s evolved into something.

His girlfriend laughs, answers for him.

Back home, his girlfriend convinces him to just take it easy. The diet doesn’t have to start immediately. He’s hand fed a sleeve of cookies, bag of chips, an extra large pizza stacked with toppings, a box of onion rings, a box of fries, and a pint of melted ice cream to soothe his nerves.

Then she hands him his weed pen to relieve the pain in his belly, and soon he’s begging for something else to eat because he’s starving.

“The gym serves these recipes for diet plans. Including shakes. So I made some. You don’t even need to exercise much, the weight’ll just fall off.”

Unbeknownst to him, one shake features protein powder, peanut butter, caramel sauce, melted chocolate, milk, cream, ice cream, and an appetite stimulant.

He goes through about two or three a day.

Three weeks later, he weighs himself and asks his girlfriend to read the numbers from under his gut.

She makes the mistake of telling him he’s gained five pounds.

“It’s all the chemicals in the food,” she insists. “No one stands a chance.”

To settle his agitation, she tells him she’s switched to fat free butter and cream and other things. He doesn’t cook, she does. He thanks her for being so supportive.

The next weigh in is four weeks after the last.

+8lbs. She gasps. “You’ve lost five pounds!”

He rubs his swollen belly, sighing in relief as he steps off and sits down on the shower chair his girlfriend took out to support him. She puts the scale away and gropes his tits playfully. “These’ll be gone in no time.”

He casts a dubious glance at them. “Really? I know you like them.”

“I love them,” she agrees. “They’re so sexy.”

“Maybe I’ll lose weight but not enough to lose them.”

She beams. “Maybe.”

The next visit home several months later features him significantly larger. His stomach pools more, there’s definitely no more lap left; his hips hurt from spreading his thighs enough to let his belly settle. His arms look heavy; his second chin looks suffocating. His T-shirt hasn’t been sized up yet. Heavy moobs press through his shirt, looking big and tender enough to feed an infant.

At the last visit, he could still get up with a large grunt, but now it takes him so many attempts that it’s easier for him to plant his ass in his parents’ poor couch and let her pile his plate with snacks and food from the dinner table.

His brother calls him a pig for belching so loud spit flies. It embarrasses him enough to make his stomach churn.

His girlfriend coaxes him to let it all out later on when the bottom of his belly is getting firmer. She presses her fingers in, he farts, and his father calls it disgusting.

His mother attempts to be the most patient. Says no one can help a little wind. But…

“I thought you said on all of our calls that you were dieting,” she says, white in the face over jiggling arms and sagging elbows.

“I have been dieting,” he sulks. His stomach churns in protest. Stress isn’t good for digestion, his girlfriend keeps saying.

“He’s been doing so well,” his girlfriend agrees. “In fact, he’s been going so hard with all the exercise he’s been told he might need a CPAP soon.”

He flushes red. He’s not ready for that at all. His doctor, the asshole, said he should have been seen for one ‘at least 50lbs ago’.

His mother doesn’t talk to him for the rest of the night. The goodbyes at the door are quiet, dissonant.

At home, the girlfriend helps her sorry boyfriend to the couch and consoles him. “There’s just no pleasing some people. I think you should stop trying. You’ve lost weight, the scale says so, so why not just let go? Dieting is only stressing you out, and the lack of positive replies just stresses you out more. Your tummy was so upset earlier, I could feel it.”

“Mm. Rub it, babe? It’s really full. My mom must have been using full-fat butter and my body just wasn’t used to it.”

“Of course.” His girlfriend kneels in the space beside him on the couch.

She kneads his belly dutifully. He fights a burp into the back of his hand.

“Hey, none of that. You know I love it when you let it all out. You need to stop fighting it. I love you for who you are, baby. You don’t need to worry about any diets or manners to impress me.”

She presses in, he belches loud and long and she kisses him with a moan. “My – gorgeous – man.” A kiss between every word. “Gorgeous – sexy – handsome – man.”

He moans into it.

“You should have room for dessert now, right! I’ll go get the brownies I made earlier. Sound good?”

Yeah. That sounds good.

(Original post is here.)

[goodboyeatlots]

Manipulation and diet sabotage, my beloved ♥

[goodboyeatlots]

Holy shit 🥵 i love myself. This is just my empty belly as I woke up this morning and I had a hard time getting it all in frame

[tumboodles]

toooooooo lazyyyyy

[fattenthefeeder]

What started as a little bit of fun has GROWN into a very BIIIIG problem!

She won't stop FEEDING me 😩