Kindofdraws

20’s - chunky bois Twitter @kindofdraws

[garlicbrednmore]

Take advantage of my financial situation and force me to gain weight.

Offer me money per pound. Punish me with lower rates if I dare to shed any weight.

Set weight goals I have to reach each month so I can make rent.

Then each month as I get fatter and lazier, I grow more and more dependant on your finances - until suddenly I’m too fat for my active job.

Then you’re really in control.

You can move me in. “It’s temporary. Only until you’re back on your feet”.

But after a few months of fattening myself to earn my keep, there’s no way I’m getting on my feet ever again.

[chonkart]

dilf and gamer on a holiday :3

[bisteccy]

[bee-wg]

The only raw milk I'd drink

[wobblywhims]

Leon too sweaty for a shirt & can’t really fit into those pants

[solidlysquish-deactivated202605]

the most fashionable look of all time might just be tank tops riding up over soft belly pudge & low rise sweatpants digging into chubby hips

[wobblywhims]

Commission for @mrpigpuncher ! Iaios has come around to liking the feeding plant… I think

[blimp-feeds]

Gods, I want to be addicted to someone getting fatter. All I can think about is kissing and kneading your fat, daydreaming stuffing you until you're fit to burst, knowing that it'll make you larger and softer. Just have your gains and your hedonism consume me until it's all I can think about, all I'll ever be service to

[moobappreciation]

It's so hot when a feedee says they're going to slow down after reaching their goal weight, but is genuinely struggling to control themselves. Forget losing weight, it's an impossible task for you to simply maintain the size you're already at now. You've realized it's not a game, that this is your life now and you've genuinely become fat. Your constant overeating, day in and day out, has made you addicted to food, an actual glutton. You can't turn it off, can't go back to your old ways and shed all this weight quickly like you'd intended. You're trapped in this cycle now, of stuffing yourself until you can barely move. You can't go a day eating normal sized portions. The number on the scale keeps going up and up even though you're not trying to gain weight anymore. For the first time, you're fighting to keep your weight down and it's a losing battle.

[livestockprincess]

you need to get me so high i sound like a total ditz then take me to order at mcdonald’s out of breath while sipping baja blast out of my taco bell cup between each item and mutter “you must be hungry” in a condescending tone while swiping your card. buffet afterwards btw

[bee-wg]

P.E. teacher Mr. Campbell during his job🏀

Commission for @DoughyPup90 on Twitter

[bigger-and-rounder]

I fantasize a lot about perma-intox feedist scenarios. A feedee who’s ultimate fantasy is to turn off their brain completely by being high 24/7 and lying in bed stuffing their face all day. Finally getting a feeder who’s into the same thing and makes enough to allow them to turn into a weed-addicted pig who can’t even focus long enough to count the number of pizza slices they’ve eaten. Just constantly high, hungry and horny, gaining pounds by the hundreds each year until they’re near bed bound from complete inactivity, not aware of the date or time and just seeking out their next hit, their next meal, their next orgasm. Brain turning as soft as their body is while their loving feeder eagerly enables every moment of it, ensuring absolute comfort for their stupid, fat pet, baking weed into every dessert and ensuring their mouth is always full of food or a blunt. Permanent, endless indulgence and hedonism brought to life in the form of pillowy rolls and heavy stretch marks from years of nonstop eating, eyes bloodshot and underwear stained with the remnants of countless orgasms from rutting into their fat gut while their feeder uses their huge body to get off. God

[zaftig-thirst-trap-deactivated2]

the good stuff

[cupfeedcake]

I had in mind the idea that it should look like the designs used on dakimakuras but bigger

[mildmogu]

Hehe happy new year

[bee-wg]

P.E. teacher Mr. Campbell during his job🏀

Commission for @DoughyPup90 on Twitter

[wannabtubby-deactivated20260124]

Being a gamer and also someone in the feedism community is a wonderful overlap. The fact that one of my favorite hobbies often involves sitting still for long periods while eating high calorie snacks is not missed by me!

I’d love to be stuffed silly at my computer, belly taut and ready to burst from all the grazing I’ve been doing, I’m stoned as hell and the munchies have pushed me farther than I usually can go. I have to mute my mic in between pulls as I don’t want my raid team realizing that cooldowns aren’t the only thing I’m worried about popping. My breathing heavy, the soft blankets I’ve got prepared next to my chair come in clutch as I rub my achingly full belly during breaks. I try to speak like I’m not out of breath if I have to talk in Discord, but otherwise I keep myself muted so my friends don’t hear me panting and groaning.

They probably think I’m super focused and locked in, meanwhile I’m trying desperately not to explode from ANOTHER bowl of cereal or bag of candy.

Once raid is over, it’s all I can do to waddle my overfed belly to bed where I sink into the sheets and conk out within minutes. A previously overstuffed and gravid belly begins to soften while I’m in my coma, turning all those wonderful snacks into an even wider waistline. Somehow I keep finding myself a pound or two heavier when raid rolls around again the next week…

[blue-ribbon-lambchops]

I need someone to push a funnel into my mouth and hush me when I try to protest or speak around it. I need them to rub the top of my head as I begin to squirm against the chair and restraints after the first mouthful of shake enters my mouth and I'm forced to swallow. I need them to coo and tell me how good I'm doing as I stare up at them, cheeks puffed from the concoction I'm trying not to send to my belly. I need them to praise and fuss over me as I feel my belly start to harden as the density of the sludge in my stomach begins to grow uncomfortable. Petting the curve of my belly as it begins to bulge against the restraints.

I need them to kiss my forehead and tell me how good it looks as it expands across my lap, each swallow now of desperation as I feel the pressure in my gut build. I need them to tut and tsk as the threads of my shorts begin to strain and pop as my thighs fatten, spreading across the chair and eventually hanging off the sides as the wood begins to creak. I need them to play with the developing rolls that make themselves seen as my gut swells to my knees, looking like I've swallowed a beach ball, then an exercise ball, then a bean bag, and further still.

After the chair has long since shattered underneath me, leaving me sitting in a mess of wood and my own fat, I need them to tell me how pretty I look now. But how I would look prettier with at least a hundred pounds more.