I have been into wg + bellies + fat for a very long time, well before I knew it was a thing that other people were into too! I lurked on tumblr for several years and finally made a blog last fall.
This post will probably be updated as I find my feet so to speak.
(formerly borrageandporridge (wait were there hyphens I changed it like ten minutes ago and I already don’t remember)
I’m in my mid-20s and use they/them pronouns, very queer and trans
Kink blog, 18+ only
Outside of kink I enjoy a variety of things, including but not limited to video games, musicals, and assorted sci-fi media, ttrpgs and several actual play shows
Very into mutual gaining, accidental weight gain (list to be updated as I think of things)
Not into slob or death feedism (not a DNI, I just actively avoid it for myself)
i forget that fat can go to other places on my body, i’m obsessed with my belly and i want it to be by far the largest part of myself.. i want it to sway when i struggle to walk, i want it to be the first part of myself that enters rooms, i want to have problems reaching any part of myself because if it, i just. ahshsbsbvs im gonna go eat
I love that moment when your T-shirt suddenly isn’t tight just because you’ve draped it that way - but because it has no other chance than to actually sit so tight. Over the last few months, you’ve enjoyed your meals bigger and bigger, having snacks at hand all of the time, giving in to gluttony, stuffing yourself time and again until your tummy was so bloated you moaned I should rub it to give you some relief—which I love doing! But now it's not just bloat anymore - it's fat that softens your body. Your T-shirt fits snugly now over your belly. You are still able to cover your big round gut if you drag the shirt down, but it’s only a matter of weeks before this won’t help anymore. I love it when you outgrow your clothes. I like this phase of the tight T-shirt, when I can watch your belly move so beautifully - not just when you’re walking, but even when you’re breathing, laughing, talking, or singing. All this waves of life on your jiggly belly fat, your round ball of a tum moving up and down so gently. Oh, I love the soft fullness that’s gathered around your midsection. Sure you're a little sad because it's one of your favorite shirts that won't fit anymore soon, but hey: We'll find a new favorite shirt, and maybe buy it a little bigger this time, just in case you're not done gaining weight yet. After all, your growing love handles have to fit in there too, don't they?
I also see you struggling with your pants. It’s getting harder and harder to button them under your big belly—which is why you always unbutton them with relief as soon as you’re alone or with me. Even though I love to watch how relieved you are when the pressure eases up, and love to grab your freed soft underbelly teasingly: Maybe it’s time to buy more stretchy pants with elastic waistbands to give your hungry belly - and also your sweet round butt - the freedom to live comfortably. You deserve to be comfortable - and you want to keep feasting without holding back, right? Don’t worry, I also like it when you push the elastic waistband all the way down under your belly at home to set your wobbly tummy completely free so I can play with it a bit, I can still stroke and knead your fat fullness. Come on, I’ll get you some snacks and feed them to you—because outgrowing a size can only be the beginning.
hi I have a writing request/suggestion!! Could you maybe write something about a butch accidentally stuffing themselves in public way more than they meant to (maybe with a date or waiter encouraging them)?
So instantly I'm thinking of a cute little cafe setting. The kind of place people go just to take pictures of the food and drinks. There are plenty of comfortable seating options and glass cases of pastries and savory treats that line the walls. The butch comes in after a long and stressful day. Maybe they're a college student wanting to unwind after a day of rigorous study, an office employee who had a rough day at work, or just someone needing a little pick me up. They approach the counter and catch a glimpse of their reflection and know the cashier is looking. It isn't hard—there's a lot to look at.
They end up ordering a little too much. It's halfway out of sheer nerves in front of this other butch—the cashier. They've been eyeing the larger butch down the entire time they've been up there. It makes them all too aware of their muffin top and round gut sloping over their jeans. The cashier up-sells the hell out of them and then offers to toss in something for free. It's only fair, they say, since you're getting so much already.
The butch doesn't know what to say to that and awkwardly thanks the cashier before retreating to the most private looking booth. It's big enough to accommodate them, but they still have to spread their legs wide to allow their belly room to hang down. Despite their efforts to find somewhere secluded to eat in peace, the cafe is bustling and there are several tables within their line of sight.
The cashier personally delivers the food—a wide assortment of pastries selected from the cases and far more freebies than they expected.
"I can't take all of this," they say sheepishly and attempt to pass off at least two of the extra treats (that doesn't mean they're not eyeing them: slices of cake, layered and decadently slathered with buttercream).
The cashier scoffs and shakes their head. "I insist. I don't wanna have to throw all this away."
"I haven't even touched it," the butch says and the cashier sees right through them. One of their hands idly smooths out their shirt clinging to the ball of a gut protruding from them. Their eyes continuously glance at the serving tray laden with cakes and pastries.
"Come on," the cashier says. "It's like, our policy."
By now, the cashier has been standing here long enough to draw attention from the surrounding patrons. The butch squirms in their seat and their belly emits a pitiful, hungry groan. Their face blooms with heat and they quietly thank the cashier, desperate to get the attention off of them.
Mercifully, the cashier leaves them with the tray and they are able to immediately launch into stuffing themselves. It is easier to throw themself into it instead of thinking about how everyone's glancing at them as they devour a slice of cake. They lick their fingers clean and polish off a pair of cookies packed with thick chocolate chunks. Some part of them is still aware that people are so close by and the cashier continuously circles by to clear the table, but they are so absorbed in eating and not paying attention that they do not care.
It does not take long before they're uncomfortably full, bordering on stuffed. This is not how they expected the evening to go. They've been here for an hour and it must be nearing closing time, but the cashier makes no move to get them out. If anything, they've been overly hospitable and have lavished the butch in the best customer service they're ever received.
That's what leads them to being beached behind the table, almost pinned by the weight of their overstuffed belly resting heavily on their lap. Breathing is a struggle and they feel the allure of sleep tempting them into unconsciousness. They can think of nothing more humiliating and force themself to sit straight. The cashier is there. Apparently, they're closing up. This is news to the butch. They apologize for the mess strewn across the table and the cashier slyly smiles at them. Says they made kind of a slob of themself. The butch flushes harder and drops their eyes. All they see is their gut pushed out in front of them. They wouldn't be able to see their feet if they were standing.
The cashier helps them up despite the teasing, and they walk the butch to their car.
I’ve been obsessing over the word “spilling” lately. My fat filled breasts spilling out of my bra. My overfed belly spilling onto the bed when I turn on my side. My fattened thighs spilling over the edge of my chair. My waist spilling over the straps of my thong. My plump neck spilling over the cute collar you got me.
feedee finally getting their own place and eventually realising how much danger their figure is in. they have privacy. they can eat whatever, whenever. they can buy what they want, when they want.
god i just love how a tummy looks after its been stuffed. how solid it is , and how it stretches out around the sheer amount of food, and how it fills out your clothes in a way thats impossible to ignore... its so attractive dear god
Oh honey, just look at yourself. You gained another pound, didn't you? I thought you said you were going to slow things down. You just wanted to have a little fun, enjoy that bit of pudge, and be done with it. But that was 15 pounds ago, am I right? You said you were going to stop, over and over again, but the weight just keeps piling on. You don't even give off the impression that you're even trying to slow things down. I can see you snacking all day long, enjoy some junk food here and there, and I don't know when I've last seen you drink water instead of soda. You go for seconds more and more often, sometimes even thirds, if you really like the food, and don't think I don't notice you unbuttoning those pants before dessert comes around.
Your hips are softening up, your muffin top is growing into a real belly, and even your arms are starting to strain against your sleeves. You can't tell me you don't notice how all your clothes feel tighter. In fact, when you're wearing something that used to be a bit tighter already, where your fat just flows out right now, you look hideous. Look... You know just as well what you said. Gain a bit, have some fun, lose the weight again. So far, you've only managed to do two of those things. But darling, it's fine. If you want to be a little fatty, just keep eating.
I like how your body is changing. Your boobs are getting bigger, and your ass is getting really wide and juicy. And the way your belly rubs up against me when we are in bed is both cute and really hot. You may also have noticed how I kept stocking up on your favorite snacks, knowing you'd find and eat them all. And, if I'm being completely honest, you look hotter than ever. You're turning into such a fat mess, such a beautiful, fattened piggy, that it would be a shame to stop now. I know you love this. The food, the indulgence, the fat growing on your body. Just embrace it and admit to yourself that you won't be stopping anytime soon. It's not like you'd want that anyways, right? You chose this. You know you want more ~
Soft feedism suggestion: cuddle your feedee and tell them about all the things you love about their body. Touch them where they like to be touched (if you’re not sure, ask!) and let them know how absolutely mesmerized they make you.
