Wizzy's Palace

Age 23 (Minors DNI)

[falstaff9000]

I wonder how many FFA/feeders desire a housebound feedee. Able to waddle around the house but too big to fit in the car.

[thecrownestt]

It's fascinating that between a feeder and feedee, it's almost always the feeder who gets depicted as crazed, unhinged. Think about that.

The desire to fatten someone up is never truly in a feeder's control. Force feedings, the frequency of snacks and meals, all of this ultimately starts and stops when a feedee has to tap out. No matter how BAD a feedee wants any of it... they are the ones who have to be rational and wave the white flag. Too full. Too much. I need a break.

No matter how sympathetic I've ever been to a partner when they need me to stop forcing food into them, has there ever been a time where I was the one who wanted to stop? No. I'm left holding what's left of a pizza slice or piece of cake. I don't want to be holding it. I shouldn't have to set it down.

And that is the exact amount of restraint that twists a feeder into darker extremes. It's not the feedee's fault, but it's the feeling of every single wonderful kiss ending before you want it to stop. You're looking at an individual who is cursed with the endless desire to feed someone. Satisfaction comes from the act itself.

What lengths should I go to convince a feedee to eat more? What if she liked me more? What if I were sexier? What if I was a more lovely partner? What if I decided to be more controlling instead? Does that work?

It's why the idea of letting a feeder into your life is so tempting and fascinating. They are locked onto your needs. They derive the single greatest pleasure from doting on you. Every motivation is built on this. They look for ways to make a feedee eat more. They NEED it.

Praise your feeder. Hug them. Give them a little bit more control. Don't you want a happy feeder? Maybe you should try out some of their ideas. It's only a week in the basement... no chores.... no exercise... could be fun...

[dflowgainer]

How It Started

How It’s Going

January 2026-April 2026

[b0ysw4g]

i want a bar where bears force feed me shots all night. picking drinks they think i might like or know for a fact ill gag on. some of them taking turns pulling me into their lap while others lovingly brush my hair out of my face or replace my empty glasses. introducing me to more and more faces until im so dizzy i cant even count the number of hands on me.

[whosaidthatmaybeme]

So the first is how K looked starting college, then when I went on T and started working out, then me now when I’m empty and flexing and me now when stuffed from dinner.

I always wanted to be a gainer, but every time I end up doing it alone I end up back at zero. Finally I have a good start going, but I need a bit more encouragement. I like manipulation, command, condescension, humiliation (especially about my academic performance, work, or any other metric of competence), and most of all, forced intoxication (mostly alcohol and weed, but really anything forced on me without my knowing and make me your pawn).

Please help me earn a real gut… I had an eating disorder for a long time and have been doing so well with fitness and school and stuff, so the humiliation really works, I’ll be all yours to fatten up while I hate my body and the person I have become…

I’ll reply to all asks and DMs! ❤️

[dom-femalefeeder]

🐷🍟🍔

[dom-femalefeeder]

Can you guess who’s the one hitting the gym and who’s the one emptying the fridge?

[iwritebigbellies-blog]

Come to me before bed, swollen and shirtless, tugging your boxers down to spare your stretched belly even the slightest pressure from the waistband. Groan as you lower yourself into bed. We already know you're too full to cum, but that didn't stop me cumming twice, and you getting hard and desperate to watch me at it. We're both exhausted, but nobody is any less sexy.

So I beacon you over to my side of the bed. I want you to roll onto me, to lay as much of your weight on me as I can take. You're way too stuffed to lie on your stomach, but you can lie in your side, that impressive gut burying my torso, my breasts just barely squishing out to bulge into your hands. I can feel you hard and leaking against my thigh, brushing my cunt.

I want you to pant in my ear. Moan when I start rubbing you. Risk moving all the way over, risk crushing me. Show me how huge and heavy and hard you are. Tell me how you're going to rail me in the morning.

Close your eyes and drift off to the sound of me whimpering, still unable to get enough of you. You have done so much, given me everything, and I want more. Let me wrap my arms around you and whisper, over and over again like I'm possessed, that you have filled me, finished me, broken me. Let the feeling of being stretched to bursting, burying my little body with your huge one, and being held so completely that you're not sure where we begin and end, overwhelm every sense.

You don't have to understand a word I say, or understand why I am still shuddering, still trembling and grasping. You will just know. I need you like this. Your job is the easiest and the hardest in the world, but pressed into me, half way to oblivion, you know you couldn't be anything else, and I cannot accept anything less.

My good boy. My perfect darling. My fattened, fed beast. I don't want to see, hear, or feel anything but you, all of you, for me.

[sulfurdream]

🩸

The beer turns your mouth into a leaking wound. You swallow like you are shoving something alive down your throat, eyes watering, jaw working, a cough strangled back with a smile that looks stitched on. Your laughter comes out too late, delayed like bad audio, and you keep touching your face as if to check whether it is still there. Your skin goes shiny, a slick of sweat and spilled citrus and sweaty perfume. You tell me you are fine. You always tell me you are fine.

I keep you talking so you keep drinking. I ask questions that go nowhere, soft questions, flattering questions, questions that make you feel interesting enough to justify another pour. You lean closer, breath sour and sweet at once, fermented fruit and rot. Your tongue trips over names. You call the bartender by the wrong one and then apologise too hard, a bow that nearly tips you off the stool. I catch your elbow, not to help, just to feel how loose you have become.

Your words start to smear. Sentences collapse into damp heaps. You repeat yourself and do not notice. You tell me a secret and then tell it again, louder, eyes daring me to stop you. Your pupils are blown wide, black coins floating in milk. The vodka has found your spine and is gnawing on it. Your shoulders slump. I pull you away from the bar and into a booth so you won’t fall. But your tit falls out of your shirt.

You spill some vodka on your wrist and lick it without thinking. Your lipstick has migrated to your cheeks. Your mascara has begun to give up, thin black veins crawling down your cheeks. You keep smoothing your skirt, tugging it down, then forget and tug it up again. You laugh at nothing and then stare at the table as if it has insulted you.

I order another round and you nod before I finish speaking. You try to make a joke about pacing yourself, about being responsible, and then you drink half the glass in one go, panic-drinking, as if the liquid might escape. It does not burn anymore. That should scare you, but it does not. Your stomach gurgles wetly. A hiccup punches its way out of you. You blush and clap a hand over your mouth, eyes glassy, childlike and caught.

Your head starts to bob. Your neck cannot quite do its job. You grip the edge of the table. For a second there is fear, naked and honest, and then you drown it with another mouthful. You are sweating through your clothes now. Alcohol is leaking out of you, seeping from pores, turning you into a walking spill.

People are watching you. You do not notice, or you do and you pretend not to. You always did like an audience. You slur my name and lean your weight into me, heavy, boneless. I fondle your tits while you lean your head on my shoulder, feel their stickiness and weight. Your breath is hot and sour as you ram your tongue between my lips for an uncoordinated, hungry kiss. I feel the tremor running through you, the little electrical shudders as your body tries to remember its shape. You are losing time. You ask me what we were talking about. I tell you it was nothing while I lick your neck and you moan in response, way too loudly.

You knock your glass over trying to lift yourself up and stare at the puddle as if it has betrayed you. Vodka spreads across the table, dripping onto your lap. You laugh again, too loud again. I tell you it is adorable. I tell you you look beautiful like this, unguarded, raw, insatiable. You grin at me stupidly and I pour you one more.

By the end you can barely sit upright. Your body is a sack of pudding. Your mouth hangs open, your fat gut spills over your pants, exposed by the lifted shirt. I see new stretch marks, angrily bursting through your skin. Your eyes slide past mine and do not quite focus when they come back. You smell like sweat and distillery. Your dignity was gone first, then your balance, then your words. What is left of you is pure need, humming and stupid and relentless. A doll to feed and fuck and fill.

I hold your face and tell you how impressive you are, how committed, how thoroughly you have followed through. I tell you I admire the way you do not half-arse your destruction. You nod, solemn, believing me. I kiss your forehead like a benediction and whisper that this is what wanting something looks like. You are magnificent in your ruin. Look at you. Look at what you have made of yourself.

[sulfurdream]

keeping you so drunk that you never know what day it is or how long all this has been going on. as soon as you start twitching again, I’ll feed you with your bottle. you‘re grumpy first, but then suck on it greedily and calm down when once you feel how it fills your intestines and fragments your view. soon you’ll be staggering around the house naked, your nipples leaking yellow fluids from being sucked and pumped all morning (or is it afternoon? you wouldn’t know). you rarely speak, but often mumble gibberish. i love how you moan and spread your legs for me when I give you the bottle. you love being fucked while you suck on the tube until I’ve filled all your holes and you pass out.

[dflowgainer]

3 weeks difference

[hungrykeaton]

Might as well keep drinking beer and find something else to shove in that gut. I think I see some give, you've got room.

Yeah well this is what pounding down more beers and food looks like when I’m already tanked out.

Kinda similar to the other one, although this one I’m more embarrassed about rewatching it this morning. I’m a mess in it 😬

[futuredrunkenhousewife]

Age listed pls otherwise you blocker!

[futuredrunkenhousewife]

[staringoutfromthevoid]

[bigboyappreciationn]

[feedthefatty-deactivated2026021]

You'll stop soon.

you just wanted to indulge in your feedee urges a few days a month. Maybe have a big stuffing once a week. You'll stop after you put on 5 or 10 pounds.

2 months go by and a few days a month become a few days a week. The passenger seat of your car is covered in empty fast food bags from stopping for breakfast and lunch during the week. It's only 15 pounds you've put on, you'll be able to go back to how you were before. One more McDonald's stuffing won't hurt.

2 more months go by and large meals become an every day occurrence. What was once considered a big stuffing is now just an average meal. You find yourself hungrier every day. You decide to size up your wardrobe after putting on 35 pounds since you started indulging. It's just temporary in your mind. You'll be able to go back to your old clothes.

2 months later and you haven't slowed down. You never deny yourself any cravings. You're undeniably fat. Now 60 pounds heavier than when you first started, you've never felt hotter in your own body. You used to tell yourself that you would stop soon and go back. The problem now is that you don't want to go back. You want to see how big you can become.

[gymratsam-deactivated20260210]

I actually want this to be my life

[cherrylatina-deactivated2026021]

I tell you I’m going to the gym.

Not because I have to.

Because I like coming back stronger than I left you.

You stay on the couch. Naked. Quiet.

Waiting like you were told.

No touching. No moving.

Just letting the hunger grow until it becomes need.

When I come back, I don’t look at you right away.

I let my keys drop.

I let the bags hit the table.

I let the smell do the talking.

You’re already exposed.

I’m still dressed, still sweaty, still elevated.

I sit on your lap like it’s nothing —

light, careless, thin —

as if your body exists only to hold mine steady.

Your hands don’t move unless I guide them.

Good.

You learn fast.

I open the food slowly, one container at a time.

You watch.

I enjoy how desperate you look pretending you’re not.

“Eyes on me,” I say softly.

Not loud.

I don’t need to raise my voice.

I feed you the first bite like a test.

You obey immediately.

I smile.

“Así me gusta,” I whisper.

“So easy to control when you’re hungry.”

I don’t let you eat fast.

I make you wait.

I make you swallow.

I make you understand that every bite is mine to give.

You don’t eat because you want to.

You eat because I decided you deserve it.

I lean closer, sweat still warm on my skin, breath brushing your ear.

“You look so pathetic like this,” I murmur sweetly.

“Big body, empty head… waiting for permission.”

I guide your mouth again.

Slower this time.

“Come todo,” I say.

“No te hagas el difícil.”

You try to keep your dignity.

I take it from you gently.

I sit there, relaxed, legs tight just enough, watching you lose control while I stay perfectly calm.

Perfectly aware.

“Mi cerdito,” I whisper, almost affectionate.

“Full and obedient… that’s all you’re good at tonight.”

I stay on your lap, light as air, heavy as authority,

feeding you, correcting you, rewarding you,

until you’re full

and I’m satisfied

and you remember exactly where you belong.

[oh-no-our-table]

Classmate at uni has been slowly gaining weight over the 3 years here but he NOTICEABLY chunked up over the holidays but does NOT have new clothes and doesn't really wear oversize so I can see his belly like at all times and it keeps distracting me SOMEONE HELP

Like it doesn't help that he's lowkey fruity too 😭😭😭

[oh-no-our-table]

Hes also a nerd and is sleepy all the time oh god

[oh-no-our-table]

HE GOT EVEN FATTER LORD SAVE ME

And he knows how to cook meat and I know how to bake oh no😭😭😭😭😭