fat 🫶🏻

James 🧁 28 🎂they/them genderfluid MINORS DNI

[hungryjamesy]

About me:

In my 20’s, lover of all bodies and nice souls.

• not interested in an online feeder

-not into… burps or gas, death feedism (ftmp) (aka don’t leave me asks saying you want my heart to pop lmao likeeee)

-kind of into… being a feeder, mutual gaining

- I like gaining, bloating, stuffing, intox, force feeding, eating for pleasure, encouragement, degradation, contrast, feedee thingsss🤍

Teasing and praise definitely welcome 😌🤍

Under 21 DNI❤️

[hungryjamesy]

Have I been a good piggy 🥺

[babymae7]

round bellies are the best, don’t you agree?.. 😌

[oharahotelofhedonism]

Trust me, I will ensure you get as fat as you're aiming to get. Then we'll make sure you get even fatter than that. I want to hear that you packed yourself to the brim. That you lazed around all day. That you did nothing but graze on food mindlessly. That you fell victim to your curiosity and made that decision to be unapologetically fat and eat a stick of butter or chug some cream.

I'll ensure you become massively, unrecognizably, problematically obese...

[emptyheadedhousecow]

warmth knows what it wants

900 words · 5 min read · emptyheadedhousecow.tumblr.com · January 2026

The fourth meal of the day ended ten minutes ago, and the heat hasn't faded. It's the most I've ever eaten in one session, or close to it. My breathing is fast, my thoughts are slow. The fullness of my stomach radiates outwards, pressing against every part of me.

You're nestled into me, resting your head on my padded shoulder, squished between my arm and the soft slope where my side meets the mattress. I'm not really someone you cuddle anymore, but more like somewhere you settle, soft and comfortable. Your wrist rests on my belly, rising and falling with my shallow breath, as you gently trace lines of glittering fire over my stretchmarks with your fingers.

"You did so well," you murmur. (I grunt in agreement.) "All of it, every bite. I'm so proud of you. You make me so happy."

"You make me happy," I answer, drowsily, unthinking, but it's true. This is all I want - this moment, this warmth. Our closeness. Your voice and your hands and the heavy, satisfied ache that holds me.

"I know I push you a little far sometimes. But you always rise to it. Look how far you've come," you say, moving your hand a little further down my belly. "Six hundred and thirty pounds. My perfect little larder."

I smile.

And then the number lands.

Six hundred and thirty. I knew, of course I knew, I'm on the scale practically every week and again earlier today - but hearing it here, in your voice, in this moment, it's different. Six hundred and thirty. The numbers used to be hot but now they're scary. Those are TV show numbers. Hospital numbers. Numbers that make me think the honeymoon could end at any moment.

I'm still smiling, but it's just the muscles holding position. The rest of me is somewhere else.

Your fingers still trace me but the sensation is gone and I feel what you're outlining: contours of land, like earth poured into this reinforced bed. You're curled up against the expanse of me like you'd curl against a hillside.

You shift, look up at me. Your whole body weighs less than one of my legs. If I rolled I'd smother you in a landslide.

"What's wrong?" you ask.

"It's nothing," I say, trying to find the warmth again. It was right here. "I'm okay."

But the cold is in me now. It's not the first time I've heard that doubting voice. It speaks up at every milestone, at every new struggle, each time I need help with something I could do before. But it's always been silenced by that heavy fullness. It's never interrupted a moment like this before - it's never smothered the warmth. It's never stolen you from right by my side.

I need it gone.

"Sometimes I get doubts," I say. "About... this. Of losing it."

You wait.

"There's part of me that hears a number like that and panics. It tries to tell me that this can't be my life. I try to ignore it, but... one day, when I'm empty, when the warmth is gone, I'm scared it'll win me over."

You open your mouth to speak, but I continue. "So don't let me. Okay? I need to stay in this feeling. Promise me you'll keep me in it. Promise me you won't let me go."

You're silent for a moment. Perfectly still.

Then you sit up. You lean over me and take my face in your hands. Your eyes are full of love.

"Yes," you say. "I promise."

Relief floods through me. The warmth burns hot. You understand. You'll keep me here, you'll keep me safe.

"You've made a big decision," you say, gently. "I'm proud of you."

I smile, and relax, but something snags. Decision? The word feels out of place. I was only asking for reassurance.

The endorphins are fading now. The warmth is tapering off, and I find myself lying here in our bed, in this body, this growing six hundred and thirty pound body that becomes less independent day by day, and you're still holding my face in your hands, and your eyes are still full of love, but something within has changed. Something that was waiting and isn't anymore.

What have I done?

I go to speak, but you shush me with a gentle finger. You stroke my cheek.

"You're tired, honey." You reach for the tube, connect it, check the seal, place the end in my mouth. Never mind that I'm already as full as I've ever been. "Let me take care of everything."

No chance to argue. The lights dim. You leave.

There was no hesitation, I realise. No "let's talk about this when you're less full", no "this is a big step", no "are you sure?"

The warmth is gone, fully gone, and in the cold I see clearly: a body I can hardly move, a door I soon won't be able to reach, a life that revolves around you. And I... don't...

...but... those are cold thoughts. Tomorrow, when I'm full, with you beside me, I'll mean every word I said tonight. So whatever I just gave you - if it helps me get back to that warmth, you can have it. That's what I want. That's all I want. I have to believe that.

The feed runs, and I swell.

In the hallway, you stand for a moment, watching me, silhouetted against the kitchen lights.

[altfeeder]

Reminder: the numbers on the scale are good girl points. The more you eat and fatter you get, the more good girl points you earn.

Same with measurements. The bigger the number around your belly, the more extra good girl points you earn.

Remember, good girls get fat… and the “goodest” of girls become morbidly obese 🐷

[missathesiren-deactivated202403]

You thought about me? When you came? Do it again

[gilescorey666]

Interpret this in all ways

[hungryjamesy]

Is it peach season? 🍑

[bigbellyjudy]

[hungry-void-star-deactivated202]

Something about a feeder teasing their feedee for "losing control" or that they're "gonna balloon if you keep eating like this" while actively pushing food into their mouth as they sit there too stuffed to move or think. All time banger really.

[brendakthedonutgirl]

oh yessss

[fancypiglet]

I may have gained a bit lol

[hungryjamesy]

Before cheesecake belly :)

And after cheesecake belly :) 🍰

[hungryjamesy]

I'm guessing you are a very cute 285

Love to meet mutual gainers, idk why it feels so rare 🙃

So glad my gut is giving 285 vibes 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Mutual gaining is a soul tie fr fr

[be-a-good-cow]

You think you’re gaining now? Think you’re fat now? Oh, just wait till I get my hands on you.

I’ll push your stomach to stretch out more than it ever has. You do a great job of gorging yourself.. but it’s just not going to compare to when I tie you to a chair and feed you. That moment when you’d stop, thinking you’re so full you can’t possibly take another bite, is going to be replaced by my fingers pushing more food into your already full mouth. You won’t even be able to protest with all the chewing you have to do before you can talk. You’re just gonna have to sit there, probably way too bloated and full to even squirm, and accept what’s happening, accept that I’m going to push you to grow.

And when you finally finish all the food that I set out, and you tell me that you’re so full you can’t possibly take another bite, I’ll reassure you and tell you it’s okay. That you’ve done so good being a proper fatty for me, that watching you consume all that junk and seeing your belly get so stuffed and swollen is so, so hot. As I grab a pint of heavy cream and start mixing it with some chocolate milk, I’ll tell you it’s okay, you don’t have to bite or chew; you just have to swallow.

Good girls funnel weight gain shakes after they stuff their guts. You wanna be good, right?

Don’t complain. Don’t fight it. Be a properly docile cow and get ready to blow up another 50 pounds.

[seenfull]

It made her swimsuit tighter too, apparently

[hungryjamesy]

Hey! Hope you’re doing well! I just came across your blog and you seem pretty cool! Out of curiosity do you accept encouragement/teasing for your growing over dms? No worries if not, of course! 😁

I love teasing and encouraging teehee but I keep my dms closed mostly cause I don’t like/ can’t keep up with responding to everyone it gets too much for me 🥴

But asks and inbox submissions be my guest! 🐷