Wow, heavy...

NSFW content ahead, 18+ only pls || She/her, trans, mutual gainer, furry. Mostly gonna be feederism-related content as such, but might have some other content as well! (Mostly related to video games, movies and other nerdy stuff) Current weight: 457lbs Goal weight: No limit

[botanical-feedress]

I love seeing fat guys get rock hard while chugging or stuffing their face. Like wow this really does turn you on like nothing else can, doesn’t it? It’s so… cute. So pathetic, yet so adorable and amusing and so fucking sexy all at the same time. You really just can’t help it, can you?

What a desperate food slut.

[stuffdtothemaxxarchive]

A thought I had the other day that made me horny so here it is but with more words

Tags: weight gain, USSBBW, (nearly) immobile fat, female reader

TW: mobility issues, medical issues, light humiliation

Imagine one day, while living with your caring feeder partner, you wake up starving. Your partner is at work, so they can’t feed you. So, you realize, you need to feed yourself. But you quickly realize that this might be a problem: the last time you weighed yourself was when you were at the max for your scale, 650 lbs., and that was at least four months ago. You’d definitely gotten bigger since then. So this is going to be a challenge.

You first begin by shuffling your body along the mattress of your bed, slowly getting your fat-swollen legs off the side of the bed. Once you’re sitting, you pause to catch your breath. Even doing so much as sitting up takes tons of effort. Once you’ve caught your breath, you begin the new effort of getting to a standing position. It’s difficult to get enough momentum when you’re struggling with this much fat, but you manage to after nearly ten failed attempts. You can feel your gut slap against your blubbery legs as you stand up, and your boobs slap against your gut. You groan as you give yourself another moment to catch your breath. Getting winded this easily… you might want to invest in getting an oxygen tank.

You take hold of the cane that sits against the wall in front of you. These days, there was barely a chance that you could walk around without needing some kind of support. Unfortunately, your scooter didn’t fit into the bedroom, so until you got to the hall, your cane would suffice.

Now began the hard part: slowly taking steps toward the hallway. Well, it wasn’t really steps, it was more like a shuffled waddle forward. You only manage to get forward a few inches at a time, and your pudgy hand is holding onto your cane for dear life. The fat on your legs wobbles and slaps together, and the fat in your arms sways in time with them. The hunger in your stomach is slowly starting to worsen, especially now that you’re moving so much.

Sweat begins to bead and drop down your forehead as you continue your lumbering stride. You quietly whine to yourself, wishing that your partner was here to rush you back to the bed and get you food. But no such luck.

Finally, you reach the door, and you sigh with relief. The worst part of the journey is almost over. Knowing that there’s no way that you’d get through the door facing forward, you waddle around so that you’re exiting the door from the side. You shuffle slowly to the side into the hallway— and then you’re not moving.

You turn your head around as much as your fat neck and chin can manage to try to find the problem, and it’s immediately apparent. Your butt crack is wedged in the door. And since your stomach is already pushing into the doorframe ahead of you, it’s difficult now to move. You groan with irritation as you try to think of a plan forward. Something that’s definitely more difficult to do when you’re out of breath, sweating like a pig, and starving.

You take in as large of a breath as you can manage, and grab your belly as low as you can reach, lifting it up and back by just a few inches. But good news, it’s the few inches you need to finish getting through the door! Once you’re out on the other side, you sigh with relief. You let go of your huge gut, and it falls with a loud slap back to hanging over your legs.

Thankfully, getting into the scooter just requires you to sit in a seat and swivel to the controls. Once you’re sat down, you flick the button to the motorized scooter on.

Nothing happens.

You try again.

Nothing.

It’s still plugged in— did the battery die during the night?

At this realization, you nearly burst into tears. Just getting here was hard enough, and the distance to the kitchen isn’t that far at all! But the thought of walking more just makes your legs hurt even more. And as you contemplate your situation, your stomach gurgles to get your attention.

You’d have to just push through the pain. It was worth it to get something in your belly.

Thankfully, you still have your walker, which you used before switching over from the scooter. It’s sitting folded right next to you. With a heavy sigh, you heave yourself off of the scooter and back to your feet. You unfold the walker and set it in front of you. Your fat-swollen hands grip onto the handles for dear life, and you begin to trudge forward again.

This walk is still very similar to before— a very slow waddle forward. You can feel your hugeness with every step you take. Every part of you is constantly jiggling, constantly moving around. Sometimes you can feel your hips brush against the hallway walls, reminding you of just how much space you take up. The only sounds you can hear is your fat slapping together and your heavy, labored breathing.

Yeah, you definitely needed to invest in an oxygen tank.

After what feels like hours, you finally make it to your kitchen. You almost start crying from joy as you excitedly waddle toward the food-filled room. You stop right at the fridge, opening it and letting the cold air inside escape to cool off your skin. Your fridge is at least quadruple the size of any normal fridge, and in the door you see the holy grail: gallon tubs of ice cream.

Hastily, you grab a spoon, and you collect all the containers from the top half and drop them to the ground. You then slowly bend down and set yourself down on the cold tile floor. You pop the first lid off and begin to devour it like you haven’t eaten in days.

Time starts to go by in a blur. This ice cream is now the center of your attention. You greedily take in spoonful after spoonful, trying to get all of it in your stomach before it melts. The first tub is gone in mere minutes, though it looks like at least a third of it was covering your face and gut.

You keep eating and eating. You’ve never felt more happy to be filling your huge belly with food. The second container is finished off. Then the third. And then the fourth.

You start to come to your senses when you are halfway through your eighth tub. Discarded gallon tubs surround you, and there’s bits of ice cream smeared almost everywhere. Your stomach feels heavy, and you eat much slower than you did before.

When it’s finally empty, you simply drop the tub down you. Your stomach feels more full than it has in a while; and a quick rub with your hand confirms your fullness. You couldn’t pack anything else in there even if you wanted to. You lean against the fridge, now almost in a haze. You feel your stomach gurgle, now protesting being this full so quickly.

As you wipe some of the leftover ice cream onto your hand to lick it off your fingers, a sudden belch erupts from your mouth. It gives your stomach a bit of a relief, though, so you barely pay it any mind.

Through your haze, you hear the sound of the front door opening and footsteps approach. With half-lidded eyes, you look up to your partner and manage to mumble, “when’s….. dinner….?”

[gem-magpie]

Look at how much of a fat, out of control pig you let yourself grow into without even trying. Through your own natural gluttony and greed you managed to stuff yourself huge.

Now, you've finally admitted to yourself that you love being fat and you love getting fatter even more. You even started gaining on purpose. You added more meals, more snacks, more everything to your already bloated daily routine. You purposefully buy food with more calories, carbs, fat, and sugar. While everyone else is reading nutrition facts to watch their diets, you're trying to set a personal record. You get excited when you check out at the grocery store and see just how much you plan to eat, and you don't eat anything that you don't know for sure will make you swell even fatter. You stand in front of your fridge, feeling your gut swell between your fingers as you chug heavy cream until you're huffing. Each breath is a heaving effort to lift your plump, ample chest and suck air into a space which is usually occupied by your overfed stomach. You sit in front of your computer all day, fat hips hugging the armrests of your chair, and look up more ways to get fat, fast. You look at how much fatter other gainers are, and you daydream about what it will be like when you inevitably match them. You pass the hours watching shows, playing games, but most of all, eating. You are never hungry, but you couldn't stop yourself from binging every waking moment if you tried.

You can't help but rub your belly, fondle your soft rolls, and wobble your gigantic thighs while you fill yourself. It makes you feel so proud to see the fruit of your unrestrained voracity piled heavily across your frame. It makes you hungry. All your impassioned self-care sometimes causes raucous, tummy quaking belches to force their way out. Once they might have embarrassed you, but now they excite you. They show just how much of an truly indulgent fatty you've become. You're in love with your own massive body, and you love it even more with every pound of fat you put on. Don't worry, There's no need to beg for more, although that is such a cute look on a bloated piggy like you. You're going to get so much bigger, and it's going to happen fast.

Shout out to @xavfox for really supporting me and my current brainworm, and happy birthday!!! I hope you had a wonderful day 🎂🎉

[kodabites-deactivated20240324]

From one fatty to another, I will say. If you’re gonna eat, go the whole mile. It helps in the long run.

Wanna eat a donut? Might as well just get 12, even it out you know?

Want a cup of milk? The whole gallon should suffice that bottomless belly.

Burger? Fuck it, 5 burgers it is.

Anything you get, probably should be double. If double already, eh fuck it double it again.

You’ll eat it all anyway. Fatass. So get to it.

[discusthrowblogs-deactivated202]

Reblog if you want something feederism related in your ask box

[toonpatriot94-deactivated202202]

Always!!!!

[staysoftfa]

*feedism related 😘😘

[prize-pig-collection]

A mutual gaining couple needs to find help because they’ve both gotten too big to take care of themselves 😊😍🥵

[feedistdani]

Two overfed, 300+ lb feedees trying to make out. They're so full and lazy that neither of them really want to move all that much, but they're so aroused at how big they've each gotten that they desperately fondle each other anyway. One feedee hauling herself up into the other's lap, struggling around not only her own rotund swollen gut but also around the firm, gurgling mass of fat in her partner's lap. There's a lot of awkward finagling, smushing of fat and jostling of overstuffed bellies.

"Ugh, fuck -- ouurp -- don't lean on me so hard, I'm so full...."

"I can't -- hhh... help it, I'm so fat it's hard to -- uuurp -- move all of this heavy blubber around..."

[imagineyourefat]

Desire

(cautionary horror or fantasy, you decide 🤷🏼‍♀️)

It started off as a joke. I wasn’t going to, you know, actually do it. I wouldn’t lose control-I had a strong will. But I wanted to see how much I could stuff myself, how much sustenance I could fill myself with. I wanted that feeling, that blissful sensation of being stretched taut. I was a big girl already, I reckoned I could round my gut out with at least a couple plates of delicious food. So I did what any curious girl would—I tried to be smart about it.

The first session was filled with literally the healthiest things I could think of, anything with a low calorie count, nothing vein-clogging, nothing that would make my heart flutter abnormally a couple hours later. I wasn't going to go hog wild.

Turns out fruits and vegetables are a lot more filling than I thought. My first session was pitiful, gut aching after hardly an hour chewing and swallowing too much kale to remember, which obviously called for a second stuffing with much more palatable options as soon as I'd recovered. A little of every kind of appetizer food I could think of. That one ended better, but I barely cleared two platters. What the hell was that? Nothing to even brag about.

So I had to try it a third time with a blend of sweet and savory foods. That time…that time I hit that sensation I’d been searching for. Did you know you could come just from tracing and pressing over your own skin if it was stretched tight enough? From that sweet pressure alone? I’d thought that was a lie but no, no, it was true.

And I was hooked.

It was like something switched inside me. I tried to stop, I swear, but how can you stop eating when your stomach's crying, begging, pleading for more at all hours? Quitting was impossible, and I couldn't even imagine cutting down. It was like I wasn't myself any longer. Suddenly my waking hours were consumed with wondering what I was going to eat, how much I was going to be able to stuff into my quickly expanding gut, budgeting, constantly fondling myself, measuring and examining exactly how my body was changing as I continued this addicting pattern.

Who cared how much trash I created? Why would I be concerned about buying new clothes when I was going to outgrow them anyway? Money? Tch, that's what credit cards and sharing my gluttonous journey on the internet for a fee was for: I needed all the capital I could get to keep my habit fed.

My work suffered; I couldn’t concentrate on tedious spreadsheets when I had coupons for free ice cream to cut out and organize. The second I was away from the office all I could think about was food and how good it was going to feel while I horked it all down as quickly as possible. How I was going to expand, where I was going to soften most, what was going to be the most unrecognizable, and most importantly...the ecstasy I was going to derive from every single moment of it.

When I was too stuffed to go on I was thinking about my next meal, pleasuring myself to thoughts of more, more, more. I couldn’t help it, tried to stop it, but it just made me want to consume more. My entire world had narrowed into two things: eating, and the bliss I’d get from eating. People sought counseling for shit like this but there was no one to stop me, no one to express concerns for my sugar crusted tunnel-vision. If there was they certainly weren't the people I wanted in my increasingly obsessive reality.

And of course since my entire life had sunk into constantly chowing down it was no surprise I exploded in size. No longer was I a big girl. Oh no, that term hadn’t fit someone like me for a long time. With the hundreds of thousands of extra calories I was pounding into my body it felt like I was developing new fatty deposits daily. Rolls sprang everywhere from my ankles to my wrists, stretch marks split my skin like the stripes of a zebra. Muscles withered away, replaced by bulging slabs of wobbling flesh. My skeleton couldn’t handle all the new pressure; I could scarcely stand after a few years of this, let alone fit in regular furniture.

But did any of that stop me?

No, never. I was still getting too much pleasure from it, a constant onslaught of intoxication, lost in a fantasy come true. The world could fucking burn and I wouldn’t care—all I wanted was to keep filling myself to the brim until I couldn’t possibly fit another bite.

It’d been a joke, but when I think about it now, trapped as I am on my permanent throne of a couch, was it really? Or was it just the moment I finally caved to my deepest, darkest desire?

Guess we’ll never know.

-SB

[epigstolary]

Wish Fulfillment

You didn’t expect to awaken to the feeling of your lower belly rubbing against your shins, but here you are. You don’t know how; you don’t know why; you don’t know what magic or genie or gainer deity granted your wish. You just know you’d been daydreaming, yearning, praying that you could be as big as the biggest people you see online. Not permanently, of course — you have a life to live, and a job and friends to keep you busy most of the time — but maybe for a day every now and again. You always imagined waking up like this, your body radically transformed and pinned down by hundreds of pounds of flab oozing out in all directions, hopelessly full of fat and bound to the bed by your enormous weight. And today, that’s exactly how you find yourself.

Gone are your slender arms, replaced by upper arms that look like overinflated water wings and forearms so big around your hands and wrists are beginning to disappear into them. Those once toned, shapely legs have ballooned into comically lumpy, flabby, bloated blobs with useless chubby feet sticking out of dimples at the bottom. Your bony hips and taut midsection are buried under hundreds upon hundreds of pounds of belly fat, stretching in a wide curve from beyond the far reach of one arm, sweeping across those blubber-covered shins and around to the far side of the bed, ending in massive cascades of fat rolls running ip your sides. You can feel your belly’s tremendous weight resting on top of you, pressing you into the bed and holding you beneath its blobby mass — not that you wanted to try getting up. The whole is crowned with two massive, sagging tits each the size of a healthy beer gut, fighting for space with a few extra chins bulging at your neck.

As you take in the sight of it all, the first thing you really feel is how aroused you are. You wish you had someone around to help you get some relief, but you’re not too concerned — maybe this afternoon you’ll get on the apps and see if some chaser wants to drop by and enjoy finishing a megachub. But for now, you decide to enjoy your newfound flab alone. You find your cell phone on the night stand where you left it, fortunately within easy reach, and call in sick to work. It’s not a long call, but after you’re done, you find yourself strangely out of breath, your belly and chest wobbling in rhythm with each of your labored breaths. But after a minute or two, it subsides enough for you to chalk it up to excitement and put it out of your mind.

Because what you really wanted this body for, what you always wanted to experience, is gorging yourself at over a half-ton. It doesn’t take long for you to search your delivery app and find the unhealthiest burger you can — a half-pound monster dripping with grease and smothered in bacon, cheese, and pulled pork — and order five of them. After adding directions about where to find the hidden key by your front door and the importance of bringing the delivery inside, you find it actually doesn’t take long for your food to arrive. You notice the expression on the delivery driver’s face go from wariness to outright disgust once he finally catches sight of you. He’s in such a hurry to leave that he practically dumps the bag of burgers onto your waterbed of a belly and runs back out the front door.

You wouldn’t have minded so much, except that after you reach to grab the bag and set it on the side table, you find your arm is already sore, burning as if you’ve just finished working on a set of freeweights. But you rationalize it to yourself as a function of all the extra fat on your upper arm and forearm — must be at least fifty pounds, if not more. Moving it anywhere is practically a workout.

But the thought of the delivery driver’s revulsion and judgment is more than you can resist; you have to at least try to get yourself off. You run your hands across your chest, playing with your distended nipples to get you even more excited. You feel the soft, silky, pliable skin of your belly and side rolls, relishing the contradictory weight and softness making your body into an unmovable jiggling mass. You have to somehow get all of that out of the way to reach your goal, you realize — you have to fight the bulk of your own body just to pleasure yourself, and the thought makes your arousal even stronger. You gleefully try to lift the sagging flows of blubber on either side of your belly, seeing just how heavy they are and how much you can manage to pull up.

A sharp pain radiates through your shoulder with the exertion, making you drop the immense fat rolls with a thud and a creak of the bed beneath. Must have been heavier than you thought. Except… no, that didn’t feel like a strained muscle. And the light numbness coming and going in your left arm wouldn’t come from a strain either. That would be more like chest pains, which would mean…

The realization makes your blood run cold. You always imagined that if you managed to magically become super fat, you’d just get 1,000 pounds added to your body, like putting on a costume. But you see now, that’s not how whatever supernatural force did this to you understood the assignment. You think about the muscle weakness, the shortness of breath, the chest pains. And it becomes clear, you didn’t just gain a half-ton; you became a 1,200 pound person. The body that you’re in must have done everything it takes for a person to ordinarily grow beyond a half-ton — years of gluttony and sloth, gorging constantly, with vegetables and exercise a distant memory. You can hardly fathom how much fat, sugar, and grease had to get dumped into this body to make it this size. And while you’re inhabiting it, you get to pay the price for all that indulgence and neglect. You shudder to think how much lard may be wrapped around its heart, how much cholesterol may be clogging its arteries — now, your heart, your arteries.

You feel your face flush and your heart start beating faster at the thought, which doesn’t do anything to help your ongoing chest pains. You try to breathe, meditate, anything to calm yourself down; but you can hardly get a full breath with the weight of your monstrous tits crushing your lungs, and try as you might, your body is so insulated with blubber that you can hardly get it to cool down at all. You can hear your pulse pounding in your ears, each da-dum coming in succession too quickly for comfort. Forget enjoying your day as a half-ton hog; you’re going to have to focus on just surviving the experience so you can go back to normal tomorrow… you hope.

That’s when it happens — a rumbling in your stomach like the muffled roar of a wild animal. Turns out, you have this body’s appetite, too. And even as your panic continues, and your brain keeps screaming at you to do everything you can to save yourself… you can’t help but look at the bag of greasy, cheesy, fattening burgers. Your body craves them — or rather, at this size, needs them. You can’t help but salivate at the thought of eating every last bite of what must be a 7,500 calorie meal. You stare down the bag, all your willpower and fear and good sense fighting the mounting hunger and animal desire of this body, the two forces balanced on a knife’s edge for several minutes. Finally, squeezing your chubby fist to relieve the numbness in your arm, you make your choice… after all, how much more damage could a couple of burgers really do?

Good luck making it ‘till tomorrow.

[berryboyz]

There's something so horny about reading a profile of a guy who's 450lbs+ and he describes himself as "chubby". Babe, you're a hot, super obese, heaving lump.

[gato-loco-deactivated20161119]

[agrowinggal]

Dreamy shape 😵😵😵

[buried-in-blubber-deactivated20]

Goals. ❤️

[softboydionysus]

there’s just something very hot about a person being reduced to their laziest, most primal urges. all they can do is eat, sleep and masturbate. such a very rudimentary lifestyle is what i crave. seeking only to indulge your desires and nothing else.

[sweetpeaches4405-deactivated202]

Guys I gained 30lbs this month because I’ve been eating nothing but fast food. I can’t stop 😰 nothing fits.

[prize-pig-collection]

Reblog if you’re going to be Tumblr’s next 500-pound-plus piggy 🐽🐽🐽

[cowbellyboy]

Umm I... Made a group chat 👉👈🥺 for trans and queer feedees and feeders. 🥰🥴 I can invite you if you reblog this 🤭🥺

[m-ary-deactivated20201019]

put on a lil weight ☺️

[weightonyou]

Progress pics are important 👏

[anni3way-deactivated20200514]

Hiya darlings update time

So.... we are doing great my darling feeder went out on Monday and got plenty of food. She hit up sams and Costco to get more dood then I could possibly eat this month. Filled both fridges and the stand up deep freeze full of food. We also have a overflowing pantry and plenty of soda and the like.

My current daily calorie goal is 7500 which is basically maintaining my weight and we are still doing leg strengthening exercises. So we are both healthy and happy.

Now for a question and a possible game. I had the idea of doing a quarantine weight gain challenge for y’all. We will see how much weight I can gain during this whole mess. I will eat 100 calories a day per like and 1,000 calories a day per rebblog with 30,000 a day being the max since that’s more than I did previously and the most I can do and not want to die afterwards. For reference I usually ate between 15,000 and 20,000 when gaining actively in the past year.

So the ball is in yalls courts. As always any ask is appreciated and I’ve turned on anon asks too. Feel free to DM as well I’m just laying around most of the day. 😘😘 thanks darlings.