I need someone who craves both food and me in equal measures.
Someone who whines if im not in their arms, even in the seconds it takes me to leave them stuffed on our sofa to go and grab even more food for them after they've spent hours munching their way through armfulls of food while holding me on their lap. Always greedy for more to eat and me to touch you.
Keep me pinned to your side with meaty hands sunk into my flesh, unable to move away even if I wanted after we've stuffed you full. Fingers digging deeply into my sides as you pant while I rub your belly, helping digest the multiple servings you inhaled. Concentration taken my the feeling of my hands worshipping your stuffed gut.
Lumbering up behind me in the kitchen to steal bites of our dinner I'm cooking, plastering yourself to my back as you gently whisper how good it tastes, and how hungry you are, distracting me with the feeling of your plush body moulding to mine. Almost distracting me from cooking with desperate wandering hands, but you do need your dinner soon, don't you?
Showing me their clothes that no longer fit in our full length mirror, squeezing into stretched tshirts just to rip them off and throwing them my way, eyes lighting up when I pull them on and they see it drape loosely over my curves, loving the juxtaposition between my soft body and their jiggling hulking frame, pulling me in front of them to see the difference in real time.
Holding me tightly as they drift off in a food coma, a date day comprised entirely of eating. A heavy brunch in the morning followed by a short walk in the sun with you eating ice cream thats melting down your wrist and you make eye heavy contact. Snacks with movies at home before takeout delivered with 5 sets of cutlery. Them sleeping pressed together with your fingers in my hair as I rub and squeeze your belly, even after I fall asleep in your arms.
I want someone to obsessed over me, and the idea of gaining and growing. Both becoming the biggest motivators in your life, only thinking of eating more and doing it with me right there with them.
You put your bra on after a weekend at home and find it's a little smaller than it was on Friday. "Ah well, it must have shrunk in the wash", you convince yourself of the cliche first thought.
The day after, it feels smaller than yesterday. You begin considering your diet. "Nothing really changed out of my diet except my partner insisting on giving me that milkshake each day"... Though you were too stubborn to consider him/her the suspect. "Nah, no, this must just be some perception problem with me taking a break from my bra each day"
A week passes. You try to put on your bra, only to struggle and feel like your bust was being squished involuntarily by the fabric you forced upon it. A trip for new bras was imminent, you knew it. Meanwhile, you kept taking each milkshake offered to you. You began to suspect it was beating on your figure, but it was rude to refuse, wasn't it? Especially since you were your partner's little pet-- it would be out of character to refuse a treat.
You were with your partner when you said you were going to the store that day. After hearing the reason, he/she carefully reached for your breast. In the beginning, there was no problem with your partner cupping your whole breast with one hand. Now, there was a lot to play with, as the hand had to traverse around to get everywhere. Just a whole-hand squeeze only grabbed a portion of your breast.
There were no explanations until you came home with bras that were a couple cups larger than the previous you owned.
Your partner smiled, offering a milkshake that tasted different-- just a tad sweeter, but sweeter enough to notice quickly.
With the sweet treat in your mouth, your partner explained, "I found this breast expansion powder on the internet. The intention was to test it out, but when I noticed it worked, it got a little out of hand. A weekend experiment turned into a week and a half long marathon. I'm s--"
You hushed your partner before they kept going. Looking down at your enhanced bosom, there was no anger-- no feelings of betrayal. There was only a smile on your face and blushing on your cheeks. Surely, they're heavier, your back might hurt for a while, but there's a silent, hot warmth to knowing your feeder partner did this to you. You did offer them the control to manage how big you were getting-- you were just initially surprised to notice this is how they'd use that power exchange.
At first, you approached without words. Stepping away from the milkshake to press your new booba into your partner. You moved your mouth to their ear to build anticipation before whispering, "Were breasts the only option?"
With some investigating together, you two found there were the same powders for belly fat, booty, sides, back, limbs, chins. That's all the information you wanted to know, as you wanted to be surprised if your partner chose round two.
I have no fancy title for this piece - this is just a shameless self insert one shot for my piggy and I to enjoy
Kinks: weight gain, degradation, pet play (puppy, piggy, hog), mistress/slave elements, T4T
—
The puppy sat nervously on the bed, shuffling a bit in the shorts. They cut in, not uncomfortably but definitely noticeably so, at the hips. An old picture of him in the same pair of shorts lay beside him on the bed - feeling like a different lifetime ago, and yet not so far away that it stirred a feeling within him about the change that had occurred in that length of time: he hoped it would have the same effect on her.
“Can I open them yet?” The voice of his Mistress sent a shiver down his spine as he sat and tried to pull the shorts down just a bit further as they hugged his thighs. She was stood not too far in front of him, one hand covering her eyes, the other dug in the roll on her hip as she seemed to get impatient at having to wait so long for her puppy’s surprise. He loved having her tower over him like this. Admittedly, side by side there wasn’t much difference in their height - in fact, he had the upper hand on that front. But that did not matter when he was down on all fours for her.
Playing about with the positioning of the photo, he ultimately decided to hold the photo in his hands as he took a breath to try and settle his nerves. She made him so nervous - sometimes the sweet butterflies-in-your-stomach kinda nerves, other times the genuine fear-for-your-life kinda nerves you would most expect prey to feel in the presence of their predator, but that’s exactly what got him off the most.
“Okay, you can open them now.” He tried to not let it show that his hands were shaking as he pressed the photo into his lap as her hand dropped and her eyes zoned in on her puppy sat beneath her. Eyebrow raised, she snatched the photo from his hands which caused the puppy to bite his lip. Her eyes scanned the photo - undeniably the picture depicted a much younger version of her puppy, donned in a pair of yellow and white checkered shorts. She doesn’t seem to recognise the shorts from his usual wardrobe, so that definitely dates the photo. And in the photo, her puppy too is visually different. Not thin by any means, she can’t be blamed for everything! But definitely not packing the heat he’d piled on since their perverted partnership. Barely an inkling of a roll starting to form at the waist as his hand in the photo seemed to cautiously lay atop the fat laying there. Their tummy just lightly covering the waist band, and the softening of the jawline just about evident.
“So, what’s this photo about puppy? Feeling nostalg—“ She hadn’t managed to finish her sentence as she finally got a look at her puppy, and the pieces started to fall into place. There her puppy was sat, donned in the same yellow and white checkered shorts. Only now, the tie for the waist band was almost completely hidden by the overhang of his gut that had clear evidence of being rather well-fed between the time of the photo and now. The once much looser shorts now fitting much more comfortably as there was much less give in the fabric, most of it clinging to the tops of his fleshed out thighs. The puppy felt his cheeks start to burn red as he felt the eyes of his Mistress stare down at his soft gut, taking in the shape and size of his body, her eyes flicking back between the photo and himself.
Not only had the size of his tummy grown, but there were definitely extra inches on his arms and his thighs too. The once soft jawline carried a now clearly defined extra chin. Once visible collarbones now hidden by a soft layer of fat on the surface. Her eyes darted once again, comparing the once cute and small belly button which was now much deeper and squished by all the extra fat on his gut. It was her turn to bite down on her lip, fighting with herself to keep up her composure as she noticed the once smooth sides of his waist in the photo, compared to that of the puppy sat on her bed with a definite crease at each side of his enlarged stomach.
“I found them when I was back home this weekend. I vaguely remembered a picture I’d taken in them, and thought I could put on a nice before and after for you, Mistress,” he couldn’t quite meet her eye as he played with the ends of the shorts in his hands, “or maybe, I should say this is my during? I know your work isn’t finished with me yet.” He teased her at the end, hoping to rile a reaction out of her. Her eyes darted right back to him as she bit down on her lip harder now, fearing she’d draw blood if not for the fact all of it had rushed right down to the mess throbbing in her pants at that moment. “You’d be right with that assumption.” She managed to get out, in a voice so low that it was akin to a growl.
She placed the photo down next to him on the bed, in clear enough view that she could still continue to study and compare as she got a good view of her puppy sat before her.
“Grab your stomach. Play with it. Show me just how much you’ve put on in your desperate attempts to impress me.”
And so it began. He’d got the reaction he wanted. Trying to ignore the shakiness, he brushed it off by grabbing firmly at his stomach and kneading it in a way he knew she found the most gratifying. One hand played with the doughy fat at his sides as the other played around his lower stomach, occasionally digging a thumb into his belly button as he grabbed at his gut.
“You’ve definitely grown some, piggy. Definitely changed compared to that photo. You can feel it, can’t you? How much extra fat makes up your gorging gut now. How much your unadulterated gluttony combined with your pathetic desire to be a good pet for me has irrevocably wreaked havoc on that poor gut of yours.”
Her words sent shivers down his spine and he couldn’t help but let out a whimper as he looked down at his fat gut in his hands. The soft fat was intoxicating. The feel of it was so satisfying and incredibly erotic as he couldn’t help but think about her influence as he played with it. It was true that he not only wanted to get big, he so desperately wanted to get even bigger for her. It didn’t matter what he thought was right, when he thought it was best to stop. If she said carry on, it was bite after agonising bite. In spite of protest, whines, cries that he was beyond full - she got to decide when they were done.
“Your face, your arms, your thighs, but most of all that fat stomach of yours - all evidence of your perverted desire to become so unimaginably big for me, aren’t they, pig? You must’ve put on, what? 30, maybe 35 pounds since that photo?”
“About 40.” He whimpered in response, digging his thumb deep into the crevice of his belly button now as he squirmed on the bed. His Mistress fought hard to fight back a moan at the amount gained as she took a step closer to the bed now.
Hands gripping into his thighs, with minimal effort she shoved her puppy further down the bed so she could position one knee between his pillowy thighs. This caused a gasp out of her puppy, as his hands fell back behind him to keep himself steady.
“Did I say you could stop playing with your belly?” She questioned, ready to raise a hand to bring down harshly atop the exposed flesh. Those nerves rising in him once again, the puppy quickly put his hands on his gut and started to rub once again - making sure to shake and jiggle the fat to put on a good show for his Mistress.
“You were right about my plans for you, by the way. I don’t intend on stopping here. This comparison was incredibly gratifying and erotic for me, so I praise you for knowing me so well. But I don’t think you’re prepared for what I have planned for you, yet.”
She dug her knee in at the utterance of that nerve-wracking yet, and he let out another pathetic whimper, “So… What do you plan to do with me, Mistress?” He asked sheepishly. He believed too that he wasn’t prepared for what she had in store, didn’t mean he wasn’t curious or desperate to hear about it though.
“Well, for starters, you’re barely tipping close to the size I was at my prime, so that’s a good goal for us to begin with,” she said, an evil smirk spreading across her face as she grabbed the fat of her own stomach and squished it against his body, causing a whine to fall from her puppy’s lips, “besides, we both love a good contrast, so it is paramount we make you even *bigger*.” This caused a moan to fall from her puppy’s lips as he grabbed deep at his stomach now.
“I mean. It is pathetic how badly I can tell you want it. Every time I catch you staring at my body with not just lust, but a sense of longing. I can tell you want to be big like me. But not just as big as me, even wider. You want to be such a fat fucking pig for me, overstuffed gut constantly bloated and weighed down by your own layers of lard you’ve packed on. It feels shameful to desire such a level of hedonism and gluttony, but deep down - I know it’s what you crave, right piggy? To gain pounds upon pounds, feel yourself grow larger and wider, taking up so much space your fat and size is inescapable.”
Her knee was grinding in circles now, and her poor puppy was holding back tears from how turned on he felt. He knew he’d get a rise out of her, but never anticipated it’d flick this sort of switch off in her.
“Well, you wanna know what I want, pig?” Her knee dug in closer and started to grind deeper now, “First of all, these pretty shorts of yours?” She pushed him back onto the bed and he collapsed in a writhing and whimpering pile. With one hand, she dug for the waist band of the shorts under his stomach and pulled them back to get a good look at the red marks imposed on the skin from how tight they were, “I need these to barely get over the fat caking your thighs. I want to stuff you so huge, they start to tear at the seams the next time you attempt to put them on. I want the tie to become non existent, lost in the fabric as it has to expand that far to fit around your distended gut.”
The image she was forming was causing him to become light headed with how desperately he needed it. Admittedly, not only because of how much she wanted it - but because, truly, he craved it too. He wanted so badly to surpass her, to grow even bigger and fatter in a form of devotion to her. Every pound of fat and lard an offering of his adoration for her glory and power over him. Each roll, every stretch mark, the extra chins - all telling of how much he worshipped her every beck and call like the obedient pet he was for her.
“It’s honestly kind of disgusting the lengths you’d go just to satisfy me, piggy,” she smirked down at him, and finally he felt her hands on him and it felt like fireworks went off at her touch, “how much you’d debase yourself and lose yourself in fat and lard. How, deep down I know you crave nothing more than to become my obscenely obese plaything? You’d never actually admit to it, but I know it’s true. I can feel it deep in there. Secretly you want to gain so, so much more. So much more people can’t ignore it anymore. Can’t chalk it up to happy relationship weight, or maybe the normal weight you’d see start to creep up on you when your metabolism slows down. No. I know that deep, deep down that there’s that depraved part of you that wants to become unrecognisable in your devotion to me. Drowning in layers of extra fat, so fat all you can do is get your face stuffed and your fat fucked silly by your Mistress, day in, day out. Because that’s all you’re good for, isn’t it, pet? Being my prized fat hog, no longer just some silly piglet showing off how his shorts are a tad tighter. I want, no, I need you to outgrow not just these shorts, but all the clothes you own. Make you embarrassed by all the clothes you burst out of, and tease you for how fucking worked up it makes you each and every time.”
He was completely gone at this point. Any semblance of coherent thought had left as he delved deeper into the fantasy she was painting in his precious head. Whimpering and writhing beneath her touch, he didn’t even comprehend how badly he was grinding up against her knee at this point - lost so deep in a trance that he hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t moving anymore, all the motion was coming from his desperation. Pleas fell from his mouth as he begged with her to force him to come over this. He wanted nothing more than to succumb to the depravity of his desires.
“Tell me you’ll do it,” she grabbed his face and forced him to look up at her now, the grip rousing him just enough to pay attention to her words, “Tell me you’ll actually do it. Become as fat as I crave, break not just these shorts but also your mind as you become my own personal fat fuck toy. Say you’ll be mine.”
“I’m yours, Mistress! All yours, every bit. Please, you can do what you like to me, anything at all. Make me so fat, Mistress. So fucking fat.” He just about managed to get the words out as he continued to hump her knee, trying to press his stomach up against hers.
Whatever he said seemed to work, as she pressed her body against his, and revelled in her feast. She may not eat pork, but she sure loved devouring her pig.
[cw pregnancy ment] Id be so cute sitting on your kitchen counter, finishing up the meal that said it was supposed to feed five people. I whine every now and then about how tight I am and that Im probably stuck up here. you suggest I put the fork down and give it a rest but I just.. cant. im carrying your (very large) baby after all. my appetite is growing by the day, just like my belly. you cant help but sigh and press a kiss to my cheek. little do I know, you brought home some cookies for me and the little one to try. such a spoiled mama ♡⸝⸝
Concept: a noble's son/daughter must attend a ball held for foreign dignitaries in three months' time. the trouble is they recently fell ill and passed away, but the family has kept their death a secret.
lucky for them, one member of the adventuring party passing through town happens to look like the spitting image of the deceased heir, except they're at least a hundred pounds lighter. the noble family recruits the party, offering them room, board, and a sizeable reward if their heroic body double can double their bodyweight and attend the gala.
though initially reluctant, the adventurer is convinced by their party to participate and pile on the pounds. over three months the hero undergoes a blow-up glow-up by feasting on massive meals and undergoing magical metabolic manipulations, with a bit of etiquette training tossed in for good measure.
the day of the ball arrives, and the adventurer has met and even exceeded expectations, now easily twice their starting weight. though still mobile, their pace has slowed substantially, and there's zero chance of them squeezing into their armor any time soon. the foreign dignitaries are successfully deceived, showering the noble family with riches after forging an alliance.
will our intrepid and incredibly heavy hog of a hero slim down and return to a life of dungeon delving? or choose to embrace their opulent obesity and retire with a hefty reward to a life of indulgent pleasure?
You're gathered with your girlfriend's family around the massive pumpkin. Or at least the smashed remains of the pumpkins. Your girlfriend's mother picks up the pumpkin pieces carefully with her clawed hands. You see no emotion in her face as she inspects the destroyed pieces. Your girlfriend's face remained neutral as welll. Her father on the other hand was lamenting over the loss of the prized pumpkin. And your girlfriend's little brother seemed especially disappointed to not possibly end up baked in this year's pie. He always looked forward to that every Halloween.
"Cara Mia, how could someone do something like this to your garden?"
"The better question is father, who would be foolish enough to dare sneak onto our property." Your girlfriend growled. Her lips pulled into a thin line of disgust. You nuzzle her head before she decides to grab her knives. You never knew where the knives appeared, they simply did. She sighs and pats your head.
"An execellent question my corpse flower. We don't have time for an investigation though. We'll need to..." Your girlfriend's mother gags, "buy one."
The whole family gasps. Your girlfriend's father faints. "Putrid...gather the smelling salts, again." Your girlfriend mutters. Her brother cartwheels away, happily landing in the land mines your girlfriend's family planted out in the garden.
Your girlfriend's family was certainly...spooky, kooky even. A black family with an ever blacker gothic aesthetic. You don't know how or why your girlfriend fell for you. She had the grace, talent, and prestige of a black cat. Her mother and her grandmother, affectionately nicknamed "mama and grandmama" did. But you would probably say she was a Norwegian Forest Cat with black fur. Somehow her father and her brother ended up being orange cats in the family. And then her uncle was like a sphnix cat, creepy and unnerving to look at but kinda sweet, in a naked mole rat way.
"I could be the pumpkin," you offer.
Your girlfriend slowly turns to you. Her stern look no longer fazing you. You learned to read her moods despite her almost lack of expression. She tilts her head and her mother tilt her head. At the same unnerving 90 degree angle only her family could.
"Are you sure, my sweetie potato? That is...unnecessary servitude."
You shake your head and giggle. You nuzzle her head knowing she despised any sort of kissing or other mouth related physical affection in public.
"Nah, some asshole smashed your pumpkin, I wanna help. Plus I was already going to get the pig intestines from my grandma to give you guys for streamers."
"She is correct Sunday, she did plan on helping already," your girlfriend's mother states.
Your girlfriend sighs, resigned. "Very well. At least you will be cute a pumpkin. Perhaps even tasty." She suddenly grins, revealing her sharp needle like teeth. You giggle and smile back.
"Alright then dear, come forth. Let's pumpkin-affiy you," your girlfriend's mother states.
She grabbed the stem of the previously smashed pumpkin. Her cold, black claws curl around you gently. Her voice like a thousand vipers in your ear as she whispers to you about ancient pacts and tongues. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and the vine wraps around you. It tickles as it sinks into your hand. Thunder and lighting strike the house. The vine fully sinks into your skin, leaving you with a stem tattoo and the start of a pumpkin.
"Wicked," you whisper.
"Wicked indeed. Now, I'll see you tomorrow girls for party preparations!" Your girlfriends' mother throws her father over her shoulder, gracefully avoiding the landmines. Putrid you supposed got too wrapped up in having fun.
***
The Next day is Hallow's Eve and all day you spend preparing with decorations, food, and whatever else the D'Aboville family needed. Throughout the day your belly grows rounder. Your toffee colored skin bleeding into orange. The vine tattoo grows in size and shape. You notice that you have little warts and bumps popping up across your skin. Suddenly making you the face of beauty and contempt amongst some of your girlfriend's family members. Family members your girlfriend reminded she had no problem culling. You jiggle about, as you help use your grandmother's chitlins for streamers. You honestly thought it was the best idea anyone had come up with for pig intestines. You inject blood filling (though you were pretty sure it was real blood) into bat cakes your girlfriend's mother was preparing. It was all great until everyone suddenly heard a creak.
The an sudden bounce as you crashed one of the wooden seats under your butt. The girl's family comes to check on you making sure you're alright. But your girlfriend stays back. The first time you've ever seen shock on her pale brown face. Your girlfriend's mother decides its time to take you outside before you grow root. Or destroy any other pieces of furniture.
You chuckle and nod as your assisted outside into the garden. You feel your braids sink into the earth and wrap around like vines. Come midnight your skin had hardened into a pumpkin like state. Your girlfriend had come out to the field, a knife in tow, and a mini grenade.
"Someone must guard you, my precious, my sweetie potato," she murmured. You can't really move your body anymore. Now planted and immobilized. You feel one of your vines move to curl around your girlfriend's hand. She hums softly and kisses it.
The next day is the party. Your girlfriend guards you until her mother tells her it's time to dress up. Your girlfriend's mother is dressed as Annemarie Antoinette, but after the beheading. You don't know how she managed to hold her head in a basket but you didn't want to question it. With a snap of her fingers, you feel a barrier suddenly come over you. To any non magical creature you were an incredibly large pumpkin. A pumpkin that could've won the state fair. You were six feet tall, 100 inches around (you watched her mother measure you) and possibly pushing 800 pounds. You feel your legs uselessly wiggle in the ground.
"Mmm, you look delicious my sweetie potato," your girlfriend murmurs. She kisses your fat belly. It doesn't jiggle under her grasp but you certainly feel something gurgle in the pit of your guts. Your girlfriend is dressed up as Erzebet Bathroy. "I will have to ask mother for this spell. I certainly would to taste you in this form."
