Food to help you guys gain weight
Have fun gaining!!
I just had to have this on my page!!

JVL
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@marshmallow-fl00f
Food to help you guys gain weight
Have fun gaining!!
I just had to have this on my page!!
Sorry for the absence guys had to do a bit of soul searching! I’m back now tho 😊
Currently been on a 3 day long binge fest (well for me at least haha). Been averaging 2,500-3,000 calories a day which is a lot for me seeing as I normally get around 800cal a day!!!
Just lost my job so idk how much longer I’ll b able to keep this up but if u wanna help out pm me I suppose (no pressure just for people who wanna make the world a fatter place 🤭)
Hope everyone’s having a lazy day!!!!
This is y I have an irrational fear of mind readers in public 😂
i find it very hot that trans and NB feedees all are growing fat to reach their ideal body and gender presentation. trans girls want big tiddies and curves, trans guys want a big beer belly and intimidating presence, and enbies know a body swathed in plumpness helps androgynize them. FACT: fat makes you cuter every time 💯
Gender dysphoria? Just get fat haha
your heart is a muscle, exercise it by making it work under 800 pounds of fat.
Big boys are so hot!
Yes baby let go of those misogynistic rules an let me work all day to help you become the himbo you deserve to be 🥵
Too Much of a Good Thing
When you said I’d never have to lift a finger if I didn’t want to, it turned out you meant it literally. And now, I almost can’t manage even that much. In all the years we’ve been together, you’ve always been the sweetest, kindest, most attentive partner anyone could ask for. You’ve indulged, even anticipated, my every whim. The hundreds of pounds of blubber I’m buried under are visible proof of that. But I don’t know how much more of your love my body can take.
When we met, I was comparatively skinny. Not fat; barely chubby, even. It didn’t take long for that to stop being true. You doted on me with regular boxes of chocolate, romantic dinners out, late nights staying at the ice cream parlor near my apartment until closing, homemade baked goods and other treats delivered before our dates. I was so taken by all your affection and how much I was enjoying all the treats that I barely noticed what it was doing to my waistline. The new (bigger) clothes you consistently brought me helped with that, too; but there was a part of me that was enjoying it so much that I didn’t want to notice, either.
I won’t say things changed, but they definitely accelerated once we moved in together. With basically a 24/7 opportunity to see me, your flow of affection turned into a torrent. Now, instead of only getting spoiled when we were going on a date or hanging out together, I was the beneficiary of your generosity almost constantly. It went from being a little pastry with my coffee break or a special second dessert, to having something new to eat or drink every couple of hours or less. It started taking conscious effort to finish one treat before you appeared, smiling, with another. I hated to be ungrateful, didn’t want you to think I didn’t appreciate what you were doing for me, and so… I just kept eating.
Eventually, I got used to it. It became a habit to accept your regular round of indulgences without question. And I started looking like someone who was used to it. My belly got too big to fit into our compact car, even doing everything I could to press its pendulous weight down between my legs. My rump and love handles thickened and widened until the armchairs in our living room became impractical, comfortable traps that my girth would fill and overflow and be completely stuck in without help. My elbows and wrists disappeared under puffy sleeves of chub that I could feel wobbling with each swing of my now-weightier arms, trying to counterbalance the movement of my body from walking. I say walking; it quickly came to look more like I was barely picking up each of my blubbery, shapeless legs and putting it down a little ahead of where it had been before repeating the process with the other. Once you told me I’d run out of plus-sizes at our favorite clothing store, and I saw no signs that my ballooning would be slowing down anytime soon, I knew I had to say something
It’s hard to describe the few times I tried to rein you in as anything other than a disaster. Try as I might, I just couldn’t make you understand that wanting to slow down on all the special snacks and desserts and goodies had nothing to do with how I felt about our relationship. You said you did, of course, and tried to put on a good show; but eventually you started to mope and seem listless and look absolutely miserable. You hardly ate anything yourself. And for my part, having gotten used to the constant flow of calories and the dopamine hit with every new treat, there wasn’t much willpower left when I saw how hard it was hitting you. It never took long for me to give in, see the joy return to your face when you got to start filling me up with lavish indulgences again, and go along with it when you made a point of outdoing your past spoiling to make up for lost time.
Now that it’s so hard to move, it’s only gotten worse. You know I can barely get out of bed, and how tired I get those few times a day when I do. You’re always ready to make sure I have what I need so I, literally, never have to lift a finger or even ask for something I might want. It seems like every couple of minutes, you bring me some new treat, something else to snack on, another drink, another meal, another candy. There’s always more, right at hand, to keep shoveling in.
And there’s nowhere to go. These days, I can’t even reach around all the fat on my body. It just about fills the bed that used to be big enough for the both of us. If I could manage to waddle all the way to the front door, I’m not even sure I’d fit through it anymore. I can’t get away; so whatever you bring me, I eat it. And drink it. And chew it. And swallow it.
And enjoy it. And dread it. And crave it. And fear it.
I wish you could see with clear eyes what you’re doing to me and what I really need. I wish you could see that I’m way, way too fat for my own good. That you should be making me move and exercise instead of sit and eat. That I need you to make me diet instead of make me indulge. That every treat is a temptation, every snack a sap to my willpower, every meal a means to make it that much harder to ever go back. You’re loving me to death, and every new pound proves just how completely, thoroughly, smotheringly you love me.
It takes my breath away.
I just want my boy to know how pretty he looks.
When he sits shirtless he looks like sweet melted ice cream. New rolls start to rise like the 6 pack he eats every night from the bakery. Wen we lay next to each other he’s twice my width and every laboured breath exaggerates that further. Hell stuff his face with crisps and sweets till he’s laying there in agony clutching his tummy whimpering to me about how stuffed he is and how he’s eaten too much but as soon as the words leave his mouth he’s putting more food into it. It’s so cute how he complaines about how fat he’s getting and how he looks pregnant when he stands now but all of this just makes me love him sm more
This is an emergency!
There is not enough painfully bloated content out here an I’m mad about it!
If 👏you 👏not 👏so 👏full 👏you 👏can’t 👏breathe 👏you’re 👏not 👏full 👏enough👏
Happy little boys who spend their days gaming and eating till they can’t breathe! Just makes me want to help give them some relief 🤤
Eat, sleep, smoke weed, repeat
reminder kids, keep your pretty boys good and full!
do they look hungry? give them a nice big, filling meal and make sure they eat every single bite. you want them happy and satisfied, don’t you? if they get too full, help them finish up their meal by feeding it to them.
they might be a little embarrassed be to so full in front of you, making an absolute hedonist out of themselves, but that’s okay. show them you love them like that by pulling them into your lap as you feed them, squeezing their pretty little ass that’s downright sinful in their tight jeans. run your hands down their sides and to their hips, over their thighs, squeezing all that new, plush skin that has their clothes clinging to them.
when their shirt becomes so tight it starts to roll up, go ahead and take it off for them. you know they’ll just whimper and shove their face into your neck, so embarrassed to be enjoying themselves so much, but you’ll make sure they know you enjoy it. go ahead and give them a kiss before feeding them another bite. or even better, give them a splattering of hickies across their perfect neck while they chug down their favorite drink, make sure you can feel each swallow.
when their belly is nice and perfectly round in their lap, ask them to suck in. watch them blush and whimper and stutter as you run your hands across their round belly, finally landing at the button of their jeans. go ahead and unbutton them, you don’t want your baby being uncomfortable, do you? watch as they involuntarily let their belly out, sighing in relief at the extra space they have.
now that you’ve got their constricting clothing off, see step one again. they deserve to be rewarded for their good behavior, don’t they? you don’t want there to be any room left in that belly, or else they might go hungry, right?
People really be like “ being over weight is killing you and is unhealthy” while their child starves the self’s half to death! Be happy with you! All body’s are beautiful
Sorry I’ve been inactive my socialbatterie is just dead 😩
Is there a Feederism discord or do I need to start one? Like somewhere where all the feeders and feedees can directly share wg tips, tricks and recipes? If not would people be interested if I started one?
High
Maybe it was a bad idea to introduce you to weed… it was just cute in the beginning, watching you get all giggly, or just down right sleepy. But that’s before I knew how bad you got the munchies. You were so slim I would’ve never expected that reaction, didn’t think anything of the initial requests for pasta, and ice cream, and chips, normal high person stuff. But you could put away so much food, into that little little body. Well not so little anymore I guess.
I felt a sense of morbid curiosity, wanting to see if you’d ever cut yourself off if I kept putting food in front of you, but as far as I can tell you won’t. Every time you’d get high, you’d go to sleep stuffed like a pig, every time.
Soon I’d notice you eating, when I knew for certain you were sober. Eating way more than little you would’ve. You were still small, but that stomach and those love handles weren’t hiding forever.
Few months go by and your habits only worsen, unemployed you had all the time in the world to eat, and lounge. Watching shows, playing games, getting fatter. That was your daily routine. My sight to behold when coming home was nearly always you cozied up on the couch, wearing a shirt that fit more like a bra, letting your tummy breathe, sometimes high, sometimes sober, but always a mountain of food. I have to admit I found it cute, and also impressive, how much one person could change so much.
You seemed oblivious, you started wearing my clothes because “they were comfier” but I think the real reason was the sweats you lived in were getting too taught around you growing ass. But even my clothes couldn’t contain how much your body wanted to grow. That stomach was visible no matter what. That chest which used to be home to what could only be considered a modest A cup, now plush enough to rest on your belly. Collarbones which had disappeared and arms that filled with fat giving them an overstuffed appearance. My adorable fat little girlfriend, or rather, my little pig.
Now in your new body not even god could compel you to take a flight of stairs, as you much preferred to stuff your belly on our couch as you get higher than a kite. Who knows if you’ll ever stop.
This 🙌