feederheart

[feederheart]

The Hero.

CW: ssbbw, feederism. This is a bit of a silly story, not so much a kinky one. Nonetheless, a good read if you love fat women.

Princess Magnolia sat alone in her bed, staring out at the window with longing for the outside world. She wished for nothing more than to be free of her prison, for a handsome knight to find her in this terrible castle, locked up to waste away into nothing. She wanted to be picked up and carried away somewhere and live with him happily ever after…

Well, if there was a knight capable of carrying all five hundred pounds of her.

She longed for the delicious tastes of home, the sweet, sugary cakes, soft and buttery buns, and succulent roasts that used to grace her dinner table every night. She longed for the view of the magnificent palace garden where she could relax for as long as she pleased, munching away at whatever goodies she could get her greedy hands on. Oh how long ago it all seemed when she could just waddle around the pond watching the ducks bath in the pool while she picked one out for one of the palace guards to catch for dinner. It all changed one day when her father sent her away to be locked up in this awful castle to be the prisoner of the evil witch Malicia. Why he did it, she would never know, perhaps she was a hostage in a deal made under the table, or maybe he simply did not care for her anymore. 

She felt her stomach rumble and churn; it had been a whole thirty minutes since she had last eaten. THIRTY MINUTES! It had to be some sort of record. She rubbed her poor, empty, mattress of a belly underneath of her silken dress that had to be made out of bedsheets wishing that she had some food. It felt a bit smaller than before; still gigantic of course, but smaller than before. Her arms as big as the pillows she slept on seemed to be slimming down as well along with her tree-trunk legs and bountiful, melon-sized breasts. She caught a glimps of her fat face in the wall mirror across the room; she now only had two chins instead of three. What was happening to her, she wondered. Was it the witch’s curse?

Speaking of, Princess Magnolia could hear footsteps from coming outside; it was Malicia, no doubt returning to torment her once again. Her favorite form of torment was feeding her horrible concoctions that sapped her strength and frankly tasted like fermented asshole. She put her hands together to pray (and declined to get on her knees because of how uncomfortable that was).

“Dear heavenly lord, sendeth me a handsome prince charming to free me of this prison and deliver me to a life of love and happiness.”

The door opened and entered Malicia, a tall, older, and frail woman wearing a dark robe, a pointed hat, and black leather high heels that clicked and clacked against the stone floor of the palace. In her hands was another one of her foul-smelling potions that she was forced to drink. She wore a wicked smile on her face, the sadistic bitch, as if she enjoyed tormenting poor Princess Magnolia.

“Hello dear,” she said with her usual cheerful demeanor; Princess Magnolia knew that she was only doing it to keep her off her guard. “Wow, look at you and how much you’ve slimmed down, your father is going to be so proud of you!”

“Backeth! Backeth hence from me foul spectra! Has't thee nay restraint!” bellowed the princess.

Malicia sighed.

“Why do you keep speaking like that?” she asked with exasperation. “It’s just another weight loss potion, as prescribed by the royal healer, we’ve been over this.

“Keepeth yond foul concoction hence from mine own lips!” replied the Princess as she haplessly kicked with her fat legs.

Malicia rolled her eyes.

“Now now, dear, I know losing weight is no fun,” sighed Malicia. “And I know you miss the palace food, but you’re next in line for the throne and the kingdom doesn’t need a princess who can’t even walk up a flight of stairs. Now just sit still-”

“Nay!” shouted the princess as she exerted what effort she could afford to scoot away from Malicia. “Nay I say! I shall not drinketh thy poison again!”

Malicia groaned and flicked her right wrist. Suddenly, the princess’s gargantuan body began to hover off of the bed.

“NAY! NAY!”

“Oh be quiet, you,” muttered Malicia as she pulled Princess Magnolia toward her and forced the potion into her mouth.

Princess Magnolia fought as hard as she could but Malicia’s magic was too much for her. She was forced to drink every last drop.

“There, was that so bad?” asked Malicia sarcastically. “Seriously, it’s like giving a cough potion to a toddler.”

“Foul witch!” shouted Princess Magnolia. “Horrid hag!”

“Shut up,” snapped Malicia, having enough of Princess Magnolia’s antics. “I’ll be back to check on you soon, you better do your damn exercises, I’ll know if you didn’t.”

And with that, Malicia turned and left.

Princess Magnolia collapsed to the ground and sobbed. This witch was trying to kill her and there was nothing she could do about it. She cried, wailed, and bemoaned her horrible life before struggling to her fat feet and waddling back to bed. She lay down, hoping that she would never wake up again and have to drink another one of those foul potions.

Not long after closing her eyes, however, she began to hear a commotion somewhere in the castle, something that sounded like shattering potion vials and screaming. She sat up and listened carefully. The commotion stopped and there was nothing but silence. A few moments later and she could hear footsteps approaching her room, but they weren’t the clacking heels belonging to Malicia, they sounded more like metal sabatons clinking and clanking with each step.

Suddenly the door opened and there stood a handsome prince decked out in shining armor. His body was muscular and studied as any brave knight should be and his long golden locks flowed in the wind… despite him being indoors. Princess Magnolia gasped and put her hands to her face; she couldn’t believe that a handsome knight had finally come to rescue her.

“Art thee the knight yond who is't shall free me from mine own prison?” she asked the knight.

“Aye, tis I!” he proudly proclaimed in a golden voice as he knelt down and bowed. “I has't cometh to taketh thee home!”

Princess Magnolia squeed and excitedly kicked her obese legs; she could already feel her loins moistening.

“Taketh me! Prithee taketh me betimes!” she said with her arms outstretched.

The knight dutifully picked up all five hundred pounds of her with seemingly little effort and carried the excited princess out of the room; she was free at last! On the way out of the castle, they walked past Malicia, who the knight had subdued with magic rope that canceled her powers.

“What the FUCK are you idiots doing?” she demanded as she tried to struggle free from her bindings.

“Thy torment of the princess ends the present day, foul hag!” answered the knight. “I am taking h'r far hence from h're!”

“What?” snapped the baffled witch. “WHY ON EARTH ARE YOU TALKING LIKE THAT TOO?”

“Silence!” bellowed the knight with authority. “The princess is returning home and there is nothing thee can doth about yond!”

“THE KING IS THE ONE THAT SENT HER HERE!” screamed Malicia in exasperation. “YOU IDIOT! SHE’S JUST HERE UNTIL SHE LOSES WEIGHT!”

“Tush tush!” refuted the knight as he made his way past the bound witch. “I shalt taketh mine own leaveth and did bid thee farewell!”

“You know he’s just going to fire you and send her right back here, right?” asked Malicia.

“I cannot standeth the fibbing,” bemoaned Princess Magnolia. “Prithee taketh me home, o brave knight!”

“Oh my god,” groaned Malicia as the two lovebirds left the castle. “Just take her, he’s not paying me nearly enough to deal with this shit.”

The two left the castle and made their way to the courtyard where the brave knight’s white horse awaited his rider’s return.

“Elmo, mine own brave and studyeth steed!” greeted the knight enthusiastically. “Lendeth me thy strength and speedeth so yond we may escort this fair maiden home!”

Elmo’s eyes grew wide and he immediately bolted, disappearing over the hills in a flash.

“Very well, turncoat!” shouted the knight. “I shalt carryeth her on mine own owneth two feet!”

And the two set off toward home-

“Can we stand ho at a McDonalds 'long the way?” asked Princess Magnolia, rubbing her hungry belly with her free hand.

“But of course!” exclaimed the knight, happy to feed the hungry princess.

And the two set off toward a McDonalds. At least they did until the knight’s legs finally collapsed beneath him.

[feederheart]

Ruined.

CW: feederism, humiliation, slobbery, weight gain

What have you done to her? She’s an absolutely colossal fat pig!

Dr. Marlene was supposed to be headed for big things. She was the smartest and sharpest woman anyone had ever met and one of the brightest statesmen in the entire country! She graduated top of the class at an Ivy League school! She was the Liberty Party’s woman in waiting to run for president eventually! Calls for her leadership were heard all throughout the country from rich to poor, progressive to conservative, the left, the right, AND the center! She had the highest approval rating out of anyone in the Senate!

Then two years ago, she retired suddenly. Why, the world asked. Why did the greatest hope for our country depart when we needed her the most?

At first, everyone thought it was health-related. She was always on the skinnier side until after she had been elected to the senate but shortly after getting elected, she started to pack on the pounds. Her trademark wide, confident, high-cheekboned smile began to disappear behind a fatter, more rounded face. Her legs, once the toned legs of a volleyball player and proudly displayed in her tight pencil skirts, grew fatter, rounder, and flabbier. Her arms matched her leg’s flabbiness; the sleeveless blouses that once showed off her equally toned arms now only displayed her bingo wings that shook and jiggled as she moved her arms. Her ass and belly also grew fatter; at first, it was subtle but over time, the tightness of her clothes was undeniable and she kept growing long after questions were being raised. She looked to be in the low 200’s the last time she made a press conference; the day she that “retired” and announced that she would not be running for president.

Everyone suspected something was going on behind the scenes that caused her weight gain and her resignation from politics, was it you? She met you shortly before she started gaining all of that weight, didn’t she? She was still the bright, ambitious woman headed for greatness that everyone knew until she met you. Nobody seems to know what it was about you that caused her to throw herself into your arms the way she did, perhaps your smile, the way you make her laugh, or maybe your dick is just made of chocolate. However, as the weight continued to climb on, it became apparent why; she was absolutely enamored by your cooking and how you spoiled her. Retirement meant that her weight would climb even faster, going from chubby to fat to supersized in only two years, so fat that every time she went out into public, nobody ever recognized her despite how popular she was recently. Her chubby face is now rounder than ever, her belly is now so massive that it hangs over her upper thighs and swings when she walks, her thighs are so thick and heavy that she is now forced to waddle, her arms look like pillows were shoved inside of her triceps, and her breasts were both as large as her head. She traded her sleeveless blouses and pencil skirts for large, flowy sundresses that did little to hide her massive curves and instead showed off every roll on her belly and back. Then there’s the collar, oh God, the collar. She wears that thing everywhere regardless of whether or not you are accompanying her; it even has a little pink heart-shaped dog tag with your name on it. She even changed her hair, choosing to dye her long, silken locks pink and let them out of their ponytail.

But the biggest change seems to be Dr. Marlene’s attitude; I had never seen her more bubbly and happy. She seemed to love her new lifestyle of mindlessly munching away on every dish you cook for her, only speaking to request you cook something else for her. Of course, you always deliver so that her pretty little mind doesn’t have to worry about anything. She is content with sitting her gargantuan ass on the couch getting flabbier, lazier, and heavier, never having to do anything herself. And is that a funnel I see? Next to those empty ice cream cartons? Have you been funnel feeding her milkshakes? Good God, what has she turned herself into? She was supposed to be the leader of our nation and now she’s a fat, hedonistic, spoiled pig. You’ve ruined her!

[feederheart]

The Five Stages of Weight Gain,

CW: weight gain, feederism, some humiliation.

Denial

Jen couldn’t believe it; 200lbs! Jen’s wide brown eyes looked down at the bathroom scale in total disbelief. She brushed her braids out of her face and looked again just in case she read the numbers wrong. She did not; as a matter of fact, the scale finally settled on 201.5 after a few more seconds. After starting her new desk job, she hardly had any time to maintain her usual regular workouts and found herself chained to her desk for most of the day. She knew that maintaining her toned body was going to be difficult but not this difficult. She tried to find time for a run here and there but work was so exhausting that she could hardly find it. She knew that her new method of coping with the heavy workload, eating copious amounts of delicious snacks as she typed away, would ruin all of the hard work she had put into maintaining her figure but she just couldn’t help herself. She also knew that she could just lose the weight if things got out of hand.

That was it, she was going to go on a diet. No more sugary bullcrap, no more fatty garbage, only real, lean, green, and high protein dishes for her. Even if her coworker offers her snacks, the one that keeps offering her pastries and treats every now and then, she would say no. She was still the athletic beach babe that she worked so hard to be, she just had to drop a few pounds.

Anger.

250lbs. 250lbs. TWO-HUNDRED-FIFTY…

Jen still couldn’t believe it. She started a diet after hitting 200 lbs six months ago and not only has it failed but she actually GAINED fifty pounds! She was getting fatter and fatter and it seemed as if there was nothing she could do about it. Her breasts and belly were starting to get in the way of the scale’s numbers; she had to lean forward just to see the nail polish on her toes. Her arms and legs had completely lost all muscle definition, making it impossible to tell that she was once a soccer player and cheerleader just a year ago in college. She was now covered in a thick and jiggly layer of fat. Each of her butt cheeks touched the armrests of her chair now and her thighs rubbed together when she walked, ruining her favorite pair of daisy dukes. Climbing up to her fourth-floor apartment was now far more difficult than it had ever been; she was always out of breath by the time she climbed the last of the stairs. Her runs became more infrequent and much shorter thanks to how poor her fitness has become.

It did not matter what she tried, she just couldn’t help but pack on the pounds. Food was the only thing that helped with her stress; she had been sneaking a few too many cheat days in the name of relieving her stress and treating herself for working so hard. Why couldn’t her body just stay the same way, she wondered. Why did the food in her new city have to be so good? Why does working out have to be so hard? Why did that guy at work keep bringing her donuts nearly every day? It was all so infuriating.

Bargaining.

It was seriously time for Jen to try something new. She was nearing 300 lbs and for the third time, in need of a whole new wardrobe. Her belly could not be contained by any of her pants, shorts, or skirts; it hung over the waistband of all of her bottoms. The only shirt that still fit her was her tube top, leaving her entire soft, stretchmark-covered belly exposed for everyone to see. The only pants that she had that could fit over her fat, celulite-covered thighs was a large pair of sweatpants that she stole from an ex-boyfriend and even those were showing signs of being outgrown soon. Even her feet seemed to be getting fatter; the softness on top of her feet dug into the straps of her favorite flip-flops and her favorite high-heels she sometimes wore to work. Her face was swelling up with fat too; she had accumulated an extra chin and her cheeks were rounder than ever, almost like a hamster’s. Her shiny black hair still shone in the bathroom light; the one part of her that couldn’t get fatter.

Jen contemplated what to do but she was out of ideas. She tried to get on Ozempic but her health insurance providers were playing games with her. She tried intermittent fasting and getting used to not eating, but when she tried, she lost control and ate double her usual caloric intake for dinner because she was so hungry. She tried cooking her own food and starting a mediterranean diet but that didn’t seems to work either; perhaps it was because she would always douse her food with too much cheese and olive oil. Regardless, she desperately needed to find something because she was getting fatter fast and couldn’t figure out how to lose the weight. Maybe she should ask the donut guy at the office to bring fresh fruit instead.

Depression.

Well, it was offical, Jen was a fatty. At 360lbs, she was now a waddling bloated blimp of a woman. She needed to use a hand-mirror to read the scale because her belly and breasts were just too big. She only had three sets of clothes that fit her, all purchased in the last month and all slowly getting tighter with each passing day; a blouse and pencil skirt for work, a casual t-shirt and pair of shorts for errands, and a large nightdress that looked more like a tent. She spent her days working away and eating whatever she could get access to, having given up on her diet completely. She was easily the fattest girl at the office, especially now that Donna, who was 400 lbs with an even bigger belly, moved on to a different job. She felt everyone’s eyes as she waddled down the hallways. Her massive belly turned heads in cubicles, paused conversations, and even became the subject of gossip around the office. She saw one coworker looking at an older picture of her on the wall, one where her face was still thin, and did a double take as she walked by her. Her ass and hips have knocked over office supplies and framed photographs several times much to her embarrassment. A coworker once declined to step in the elevator with her despite the fact that Jen was the only other person on it. Jen even saw some pictures from her competition days and wanted to cry.

Fortunately, her luck began to turn. No, she didn’t lose any weight, she actually got a promotion that enabled her to work from home. No more walking up and down the stairs every day, no more walking to the train station, no more walking through the city, and no more being humiliated at work for her blimp of a body. All she had to do was sit on her gargantuan ass at home where she had access to all of the snacks she wanted. A welcome change, now she did not have to deal with the judgment of her coworkers. Shortly after this change in her life, she found herself sitting on her couch craving donuts. Perhaps she should give the donut guy at work a call, he was the only one who still treated her the same and did not make snide remarks regardless of how much she weighed.

Acceptance

A year and over a hundred pounds later, Jen was living the life. Her belly, now spread out all over her fat juicy thighs, served as a table as she happy scarfed down a dozen donuts. Her fat arms jiggled and swayed each time she grabbed one and put it to her fat, greedy mouth. Her fat, heavy legs were kicked up onto the coffee table and spread open so that her portable fan could blow underneath of her belly and right at her hot and sweaty crotch. She remained still so that the couch supporting her massive ass did not creak and groan so much, threatening to break right underneath of her. Her laptop was on the desk beside her, sitting dormant until she has another task to complete for work. Working at home has been great for her; now that she did not have to deal with her judgemental coworkers, her stress levels have gone way down and she found herself enjoying it a lot more. She was now able to do her work as well as relax and eat all day.

Jen was fat and there was nothing she could do about it nor did she want to; her cravings were just too strong. Even though she had received her less stressful promotion, it was too late to change, her fat and growing body now craved fatty sugary treats more than ever. Her appetite could only be sated by constant snacking, which she was more than happy to do as she typed away. She knew she would never get her toned body back but she stopped caring months ago. She was happy with her donuts and pastries.

Speaking of, she received a text from her boyfriend, the same guy from the office; he had just finished making an entire cheesecake and he was walking up the stairs now. Her overfed stomach, still ful of donuts, growled at the thought of the thick, decadent, creaminess of the cheesecake and her mouth salivated hungrily. She got up, still naked, and waddled over to the door, her belly swinging back and forth and her ass shaking up and down with each step. She didn’t need to lose weight, she didn’t need her toned body back, and she didn’t need to play sports ever again; she just needed that cheesecake.

[feederheart]

Thinking about fattening you up until you’re struggling to move, clipping an extra large collar around your neck and forcing you out of bed to go on a “walk.” Of course you’re so big all you’re capable of is a slow waddle if that, your massive stomach swaying as you breathe heavily and jiggle all over and beg for it to stop before we’ve even crossed the room. And I’d take the opportunity to get close and put my hand under your multiple chins to force your sweaty red face to look into mine as I massage your folds and make you truly feel just how irreversibly fat you’ve gotten. That if you can’t even heft yourself to the door without needing a break there’s no way you’ll ever be able to lose the weight, that you’re going to be my fat pet forever. A total pig destined to keep growing until you’re completely unable to move, in total bliss with no sense of anything but how good it feels to be a swollen mess. Of course as I speak your face will only flush brighter as I feel you up, pinching and nipping at your rolls of fat as you can feel the tight collar around your neck, reminding you that above all else you are owned. Resistance is futile, your mind and body becoming shaped to fit my every whim and desire which has become yours as well. And as your blood rushes south and you moan for more I’d step away, tugging the leash sharply for you to approach me once more. You’d whine and desperately rush to feel my touch, only for your massive frame to become unbalanced and spill to the floor, your flabby stomach breaking your fall and your body jiggling all over as you land. I’d just chuckle and lean down as you moan loudly like the slut you are, the sensation of how weak you’ve become and how fat and pathetic you are getting you so turned on you can’t help but hump your own stomach, groaning and snorting like a hog as the desperate need to get off drowns out every rational thought.

Of course I’d take the opportunity to roll you over on your back, admiring your swollen frame jiggling and drooling on the floor, your collar still connected to a leash held in my hand. I’d do whatever I wanted to your body then, making sure you cum numerous times so you don’t forget just how good all of this makes you feel. How good I make you feel. My precious piggy, huge and barely able to move and desperately turned on by the whole experience. Addicted to eating and growing and never wanting to be anything else, completely trapped by your own body and destined to only grow larger.

The only problem would be getting you back into bed afterwards.

[feederheart]

The Greedy Queen.

CW: feederism, ssbbw, fingering

I could hear the ravenous gorging before I even stepped foot inside of the throne room.

The colossal oaken doors creaked open as the two heavy-armored guardsmen permitted my entry. Inside was a massive hallway illuminated by the morning sun shining through multicolored stained glass windows depicting the greatness of Gulosus, the ever-consuming empire. Treasures including armor, weapons, scepters, jewels, gold jewelry, statues, paintings, carvings, pottery, and even a crown once worn by my late uncle were scattered throughout the room either mounted on a pedestal, a stand, or a plaque. At the end of the hallway sat a massive throne decorated with glittering gemstones and shining gold pillaged from all over Gulosus. The throne’s occupant, Queen Aila, sat all six-hundred pounds of her fat, quivering body on said throne as two servants beside her fed her the bounty of the kingdom she inherited from her mother. She greedily reached her fat fingers toward a bowl filled with sweet, sugary fruit grown in the fertile plains to the south and nuts grown in the western valleys as she chewed on a roasted leg from a wild beast that roamed around the northern hills. She then took a swig of wine made from eastern shore grapes to wash it all down before digging into a decadent chocolate cake baked here in the castle; her meal was as well-rounded as she was. Her fat arms swung like pendulums as she reached for more and more food to shovel into her greedy mouth. Her round face, once the famous face that could drive kingdoms to war, had rounded out quite a bit; although her long, auburn hair and beautiful green eyes were still as flawless as ever, her cheeks and double chin jiggled with each bite she took off her food. Her bountiful breasts, massive belly, and juicy fat thighs threatened to rip and tear the tent-like silvery dress that she wore over her body, displaying each and every one of her corpulent curves. As usual, she was adorned in glittering gold jewelry and gem-encrusted trinkets, although it was clear that these had to be made to account for her fat wrists, neck, and ankles. 

I wasn’t here to watch another one of her greedy gorgings; if I were, it wouldn’t be hard to fit it into my schedule seeing as that’s all she does. I was here to deliver her tribute from my homeland, Mons; a vase full of goldbrew. Goldbrew is wine made from golden grapes that can only be grown in Mons. It is said to be the most delicious drink imaginable; at least Queen Aila seemed to think so. 

“OOH!” she squealed happily as soon as she noticed that I had walked in. “Have you brought me my brew?”

“Indeed I have,” I said, bowing before the queen with my arms outstretched.

The two servants ran over and grabbed the gourd before to take it to the queen for her consumption.

“You two, wait!” she exclaimed at the servants. “I want him to serve it to me.”

The two servants bowed and left the throne room.

“Bring it to me,” she demanded, pointing her finger at me and giving me a “come hither” gesture.

I stood up and obliged. Queen Aila’s fluttered her eyes seductively and watched as I brought over her goldbrew. I walked up the steps before her throne and stood right in front of her fat legs, smothered by her giant belly.

“For you, my queen,” I said as I tried to give her the vase.

“Pour it down my throat,” she ordered hungrily. “I want every last drop!”

“As you wish,” I replied.

I reached the vase over her belly and breasts to reach her awaiting mouth. I poured the sweet, succulent liquid down her throat and she gulped it down like a pig; she seemed to have mastered the art of stuffing her mouth without breathing.

I stopped pouring after about twenty seconds to let her take a breath. She moaned in pleasure as she swallowed, savoring the delicious taste of the goldbrew. Her legs seemed to shake ever so slightly and I swore I could see her hips gyrating. This was because goldbrew was easily the most potent aphrodisiac known to man.

I reached to her belly and began to rub it to help her digest her meal as I fed her dessert. With the other hand, I continued to pour the goldbrew down her throat, causing her to moan even louder. I slowly worked my hand down to the bottom of her dress and lifted it up; her juices were building up and running down her leg. I slowly slid my fingers lower and lower until they were between her fat thighs and worked my way between her vagina. I felt her sopping wet womanhood and pleasured her as I fed her the goldbrew, completely losing her in total ecstasy. She moaned and panted as I pushed my fingers deeper and deeper while contorting my arms so that I could do that and feed her the drink. Her fat legs twitched with pleasure and her back arched, pushing her protruding belly our even further. Finally, just as I was running out of goldbrew, she screamed and squirted all over her legs and my hand. Her juices dripped down to the floor as Queen Aila lay there, satisfied and full.

“I’ll fetch those servants and tell them to bring rags,” I said to her.

She was so lost in ecstasy that she did not hear. I simply bowed and turned around, satisfied with what my goldbrew had done to the queen. 

You see, none of the vases I brought contained just goldbrew as my uncle promised many years ago when he surrendered our lands to Gulosus. We couldn’t fight them head-on, so we opted for another path. Our golden grapes contain the aforementioned aphrodisiac that captivated not just Queen Alia’s senses but her mother before her as well. However, another ingredient we added just for them; a special spice that numbs the senses and strokes the appetite, slowly turning the drinker to a fat, hedonistic, and horny pig that would eat and fuck whatever is in front of them. As Queen Aila grew fat, lazy, and stupid by eating and drinking all day, my people were preparing to make their comeback and take Mons back. 

Gulosus will be sitting ducks because their queen is a fat, spoiled, pig of a woman who only cares about where her next fix of goldbrew is coming from. She’s perfect.

[feederheart]

The Weightlifter

CW: feederism, ssbbw, weight gain(F), muscle gain(M). It's a wholesome story this time, no humiliation or BDSM, sorry.

Mr. Bruce slowly made his way to the podium where reporters awaited to conduct an interview with him. The ground shook when he stepped as his gargantuan, muscular, and bulky body walked across the hardwood, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. He couldn’t feel his muscular arms, legs, glutes, or core for he had just competed in the Mr. Muscle weightlifting circuit. There was, however, something that he could still feel; the gold medal around his neck.

Normally Mr. Bruce didn’t care for interviews but he was in a darn good mood today; he was a world champion after all. Despite his willingness to answer pretty much anything, he wasn’t quite prepared for the first one.

“Mr. Bruce, records indicate that you only began weightlifting six years ago at the age of twenty-four. How did you go from a novice to a world champion despite being so far behind the competition?”

That was not an easy question to answer, not that Mr. Bruce couldn’t have told the truth in a short and concise manner for the purpose of the interview (or just lied), but rather because the story of why was too beautiful not to tell.

Six years ago, he was about as skinny and frail as an old fallen tree branch at the mercy of termites and bark fungus on the forest ground. He was quite tall as well; you may have seen him before walking down the street and mistakenly mistook him for a lamppost. Additionally, his name was just Bruce; he had yet to earn his “Mr.” moniker.

Beside him was his girlfriend, Rose, whose body could not have been more dissimilar. She was short and round, very nearly two hundred and fifty pounds. Her weight was somewhat evenly distributed, although most of the weight clearly went to her belly, she had soft, supple, and plump arms and legs, large breasts currently hanging slightly over her too-tight sports bra, and a big, jiggling ass that bounced with each step. Her olive skin was soft, smooth, and nearly flawless, her auburn hair shone in the sunlight and hung just past her shoulders, her round and chubby face was adorned with light makeup, and her feet slapped against the soles of her flip-flops as she walked. 

Bruce loved Rose and loved to show his affection in any way he could, especially by spoiling her with food; she was quite the bottomless pit. However, as they walked, there was something on his mind bugging him. As he walked, he noticed another couple on a stroll, both of whom were young and fit. The man picked up the woman and spun her around, giving her a big kiss as she laughed with joy. Bruce saw this and felt a twinge of envy. He wanted nothing more than to pick up Rose and carry her around like a princess but there was certainly no way he would be able to do so, he had never lifted a weight in his life.

As their stroll continued, Bruce spotted a gym nearby full of equipment that he had seen before but had no idea what they were for. He saw several men and some women inside who all had larger muscles than he did and were lifting more than he could. One man stood out as by far the largest; although he was by no means lean (his gut stuck out of the bottom of his XL t-shirt), he was busy putting away three-hundred and fifteen pounds on the bench as if they were nothing while his two spotters bellowed words of encouragement.

Bruce had seen enough. He walked into that gym, signed up, and never looked back. He began watching bodybuilding videos and guides as if they were religious doctrines. Five days a week he spent working on whatever part of his body wasn’t sore from the last time he worked it. Sometimes Rose would come along with him; not to work out, of course, to sit back, eat, and watch her lover get swole.

After a few months of working out, Bruce’s muscles had been beginning to show. For the first time, his chest wasn’t as flat and pale as an undercooked pancake. His arms and legs began to show some definition and although his abdominal muscles were still hidden, he could feel them with his finger. Most importantly, he finally surpassed a 250lb squat for 5 reps for the first time. Today was the day he was going to try and pick up his girlfriend.

Rose stood in their bedroom completely naked, her belly, breasts, and even her arms hanging down. She cheered him on as he knelt down and tried to pick her up; before she could get more than a half inch off of the ground, Bruce stopped. Rose asked him what had happened; Bruce answered honestly; she had gotten fatter. Her belly now hung over her fupa, she had gone up two bra sizes, and she had ripped two pairs of jeans and a dress just by putting them on.

“Oh no, now you’ll have to work even harder and get even stronger,” she cajoled sarcastically as she put her hands on his chest and rubbed his pecs seductively. 

Bruce, who was just cursing himself in frustration, smiled instead.

By the end of the year, Bruce’s hard work had been really paying off. He finally managed to cross the three-hundred-pound mark on the squat rack and also surpassed two hundred and twenty-five pounds on the bench. However, Rose had surpassed three hundred and ten pounds on the scale, nullifying his achievement. She giggled to herself as she looked down at her belly covering her lover’s head.

“Looks like you’ll have to keep lifting,” she cajoled.

Bruce obliged. He would keep getting stronger, challenging himself to surpass his previous limits no matter how much pain he was in. He was building muscle so fast that stretchmarks began to show on his arms. Every month would bring a new personal record for him to be celebrated by his new friends he made at the gym.

Meanwhile, Rose was hard at work too; after all, she didn’t want her boyfriend to lose motivation. She lounged on the couch for hours every day gulping down sugary sodas, heavy creaming milkshakes, buckets of fried chicken and potato wedges, entire family meals from fast food restaurants, and whatever fatty, delicious treat she could get her thick greedy fingers on. Her weight always increased at a faster rate than Bruce’s strength, just as she intended. As his peck grew, so did her beasts that spent most of their time hanging down her chest with no bra to hold them back. While Bruce’s abdominal muscles grew to be more defined, Rose’s were further buried beneath her ever-expanding belly which was now so big that it split her thighs. While Bruce’s glutes and quads grew bigger thanks to the squat rack, Rose’s ass and thighs grew fatter, so fat in fact that Bruce has to lotion the latter every day to prevent his princess from getting chub rub. Her fingers and toes, which Bruce painted red himself, were getting thicker and fatter as if her wrists and ankles intended to swallow them. Even her neck got fatter while Bruce’s became defined and strong.

A year turned to two, which turned to three, four, and five. Although both Bruce and Rose’s gains would eventually slow down, they never stopped growing for each other. Bruce’s body was now approaching the size and shape of a WWE wrestler while Rose’s looked more like a sumo wrestler. The former was now breaking records at the local gym and state weightlifting competitions while Rose was breaking furniture and scales. While Bruce was guzzling weight gain shakes after his intense workouts, Rose was guzzling them after her intense naps. Eventually, Rose would finally be too big to move meaning Bruce had to finally catch up and carry her.

Rose and her six-hundred-pound frame stood up next to her future husband wearing nothing but the massive ring that he had given her. Bruce, now over three hundred pounds of muscle, grabbed Rose’s right arm and dragged it over his shoulder careful not to suffocate via arm fat, knelt to the ground to reach underneath her apron-like hanging belly and between her thighs each the size of an average person’s torso, and he braced himself; he was ready. He began to push off of the stone tiles beneath his feet and lift her into the air. Her arms, belly, breasts, thighs, and even her neck quivered, jiggled, and drooped downward as Bruce pushed skyward with all of his might.

Finally, he was standing and his future wife was now hanging over his shoulders.

The two celebrated like never before with food, drinks, and the absolutely nastiest sex they’ve ever had with each other. The two fell asleep together happier than ever, perhaps the only exception being the day Bruce proposed to Rose (by hiding the ring in a container of weight gainer for her to find). 

It was now year six of the journey and Bruce stared down the reporter’s microphone as he thought of an answer to her question. He decided to keep it short and sweet.

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my wife,” he answered. “She kept me on this path even when times were tough and I wanted nothing more than to quit. She was always there for me and I love her more than I could possibly express!”

[feederheart]

I need someone to be a greedy and eager growing cow for me. I would just love to have my own personal livestock that I get to fatten up and fuck whenever I’d please. I need to see any semblance of your brain activity to disappear and be filled with thoughts of being bred and eating. I wanna see you bent over gorging on burgers and ice cream, unable to help yourself to the insane portion sizes, eventually I’ll just throw it all into a funnel for you to constantly suck down calories. I’d wanna see your body get completely filled with red stretchmarks and cellulite and rolls of fat, I’d play with your belly any chance I get to see you get horny and hungry for more. And if you’ve been a good cow I’d breed you after every feeding, seeing you eagerly shake your growing fat ass for me as you beg for me to mount you and fill you up with all of my cum. I need a breeding cow

[feederheart]

I’m super into degrading, like I really wanna just corrupt someone’s normal way of life and turn them into a fattening bimbo glutton. I wanna see any semblance of who you were before disappear because I enable a part of you that you have desperately wanted for so long. I wanna see your brain only full of thoughts of eating and getting fucked by me. I wanna see you lose all self control and give in, gorging constantly for me, showing off your fat for me. I wanna see you get dumber and dumber with each bite as you feel your curves grow, begging for me to touch them. I wanna see you dress as a slut for me so I can always see the progress we are making on display. I want you bending over for me whenever you feel you need my cock inside you, but I’ll always make sure you have food being stuffed down your throat too. I wanna see you turn into a dumb slutty fat horny mess for me, constantly craving my girl cock and my hands on your fattening body. I wanna see you get addicted to the taste of my cum and beg for me to breed you so that you’re all mine. To see my own horny fat cow knocked up and completely enamored with me is the dream, I need to see you give in and be my greedy glutton.

[feederheart]

Do it

[feederheart]

SFW Positive Feedism Questions:

I made these for a more soft feedism approach! Reblog and see what asks you get in your inbox.

Are you a gainer, admirer, or both?

Sweet or savory foods as a preference?

What weird food combinations do you really enjoy?

Favorite nonsexual thing about feedism?

Burping is cute: yay or nay?

Describe your perfect date.

Stuffing/feeding at home or in public?

Something you think all big people should hear is ___.

If you had an endless supply of any food, what would you choose?

Best piece of advice for new gainers would be___.

The scale: important to you or just a number?

Where would you rather the fat to go, to the belly or the butt?

When cuddling, do you like being the big spoon or little spoon?

Favorite piece of clothing to outgrow/watch someone outgrow?

If you owned a restaurant, what kind of food would it serve?

Favorite type of food?

How would you deal with family and friend's comments about you or your partner's weight?

Country you'd most like to take a food tour of?

What do you typically have for a midnight snack?

What was the best meal you have ever had?

[feederheart]

STUFFING THE PIG.

CW: BDSM, feederism, force feading, ddlg, domination, ssbbw.

She had been completely deprived of everything. Her flabby, super obese body was bound by sturdy ropes that suspended her a foot off of the ground, binding her wrists behind her back and her legs to her bloated chest. The ropes were tied tight around her fat, spilling over the bondage like putting jello. Her belly, however, was spared, allowed to hang down halfway to the ground and swing around like a giant bag of gravy. She was completely blindfolded, depriving her of her sight. There was no sound in the room save for the creaking of the overworked ropes, the scraping of cutlery as I prepared her some cheesecake, and the occasional drip drop coming from her sopping wet pussy leaking onto the floor.  She was completely naked of course, however, her bare skin could only feel the tight ropes keeping her and the still air inside of the basement. Sometimes she would let out a little moan or whimper, to which I would sigh and grab the whip to teach her a lesson about being silent when I tell her to. She could, however, still smell and taste and she was hungry, so much so that she began to whisper and whine desperately like a bitch.

“Just begging for the whip again, aren’t you?” I growled.

“P-Please, Daddy, I’m hungry,” she begged. 

“You’re lucky that I just finished cutting,” I said as I grabbed a slice of cheesecake and slily inserted it into her greedy mouth.

She swung her body forward as far as she could to get a bite of the sweet, creamy richness of the cheesecake, moaning in pleasure as she tasted it. She swallowed it all, depositing all of the fatting goodness into her gargantuan belly to be turned into more quivering fat. I gave her another bite, then another, and another, until it was all gone.

“Did that taste good, piggy?” I asked her.

She nodded her head with her mouth full.

“Good,” I said. “I’ll get you some more.”

She swallowed and waited patiently for the cheesecake. I took my sweet time with it, slowly meandering back over to her with her food in my hand. She began to whimper, whine, beg, and try pathetically to swing toward me. Her enormous belly and fat rolls jiggled and swayed like the ocean tide as she rocked back and forth. I was actually brimming with sadistic glee watching her beg for food like a fat pig but I had to install discipline.

“You’re doing too much,” I said as I grabbed the whip.

“Wait- no- Daddy, please I’m just hungry,” she begged.

I ignored her and stepped up to her massive, globular ass, giving her red whip scars a good smack, sending it jiggling like gelatin and drawing a cry of pain from the fat pig. I lashed her a few times, making new marks right next to the old ones.

“I’ll be good, I promise!” she begged.

“Good,” I responded flatly.

I walked back over to her front and resumed shoving cheesecake in her greedy mouth, this time more forcefully. I shoved bigger and bigger pieces in her mouth until she looked like a hamster with her cheek pouches full. She gulped the food down faster and faster, almost choking twice but still pressing on like the greedy pig she was. 

“Did you like that, piggy?” I asked her gently.

She nodded her head and swallowed the last bit.

“Yes, Daddy,” she mewled.

“Are you ready for dessert?” I asked her.

“Yes, Daddy,” she repeated politely.

I pulled down my jeans, boxers, and pulled out my throbbing cock, rock hard from the sight of such a pathetic piggy. I grabbed both sides of her head and slowly put my cock to her thick lips. She pressed them to the tip and slowly invited me inside, taking it all the way to my balls. I started off slow, sliding in and out and feeling her mouth take my cock. I felt myself reach her throat, stifling a moan as I lavished in her soft mouth. She sucked obediently, taking my cock in her throat like a champ.

I could see her hips twitching, telling me that she was ready to be bred like a cow.

“You’ve been such a good pig, eating every last bite,” I crooned as I ran my fingers through her hair. “I think you deserve a treat.”

She nodded her head with my dick still in her mouth.

I pulled out and slowly made my way behind her, making sure to pinch her exposed rolls and belly as I stepped. She yelped every time I did, sending little fatty shockwaves across her jiggling body. By the time I got to her massive ass, she was already whimpering.

“Breed me please, Daddy,” she begged. “Get me pregnant and milk me!”

“Only if you promise to be good,” I answered.

“I will, Daddy, I promise!” she exclaimed.

I obliged her wish, slowly sliding into her slippery, wet cunt and breaching her slowly. She moaned as I dove into her womanhood and began to pound her, smacking against her colossal ass as it jiggled like a swimming pool in an earthquake. I lay into her with every bit of strength that I had until I was ready to fill her with my seed.

“You want it inside you?” I grunted.

“Pleeaase!” she begged loudly. “Cum in me!”

I released my load and filled her fat pussy with my semen, flooding her so thoroughly that my cum began dripping down her fat fupa and onto the ground. I stepped back and admired how she shivered with pleasure as she swung back and forth, slowly coming to a halt.

“What a good pig,” I crooned. “Now let’s get you down from this crane.”

[feederheart]

Reblog if you are a BBW or have a blog dedicated to BBWs 😍🙌🙏

I want to follow you guys

[feederheart]

The Activist's Dirty Secret.

CW: feederism, humiliation, ddlg, domination, submission, bdsm.

I finally got an opportunity to put my feet up and relax. After a long day of work, I was now laid out on my couch wearing nothing but a black bathrobe. I had a had a cup of Thai tea in one hand, the TV remote in the other, and a drink in my pocket ready to fall out at any moment. I rescued it before it fell, opened it, and set it down on the coffee table. I turned on the TV to see a speech being held at the local university. A group of students calling themselves the Fat Understanding, Positivity, and Acceptance club, or FUPA for short, had organized the largest-ever rally for supporting fat liberation and acceptance. Most of the group were typical politically-minded college students; they had brightly colored hair, and loud outfits with political messages on them, and most of them were on the heavier side. None, however, were bigger than the girl at the podium who was currently speaking; she had to be no fewer than four hundred and fifty pounds. She was also dressed the most provocatively, letting each of her rolls breathe outside of her clothes. Her skills as a beautician were on display showing off long, black, and shiny salon-quality hair, black nails adorned with little skulls, powdery foundation, black eyeliner, and lipstick; she looked like a hamster with its cheeks full was a punk supermodel. Her black tube top barely contained her breasts; although they weren’t big by fat girl standards, her top was clearly several sizes too small. Her massive belly, where most of her weight was concentrated, hung over her unbuttoned black shorts. Her fat legs quivered with every step visibly enough to see on TV. She wore a pair of tall, black boots that were clearly not fastened all of the way, her calves were clearly too fat. On her fat neck was a thick black collar that appeared perfectly in line with her punk outfit save for the little dog tag hanging just below her double chin.

The girl gave a speech about accommodating fat people in our society. She petitioned for larger seats in planes, busses, trains, and whatever she struggled to fit her massive ass into. She demanded people stop using fatphobic language and compare it to discriminatory language based on race, sex, and religion. She demanded doctors be more accommodating to their fat patients and stop using diet and exercise as a cure-all for every ailment they have. She chastised the leading Republican candidate for the presidency for criticizing a female senator’s weight while not being lean himself. It was the same stuff she could usually be found repeating around the school; she’s developed quite a reputation for her activism. I was having a hard time listening to what she was saying because my eyes were drawn to her quivering face, rolls, and belly that jiggled for everyone to see with even the slightest movement.

She finished the speech with one last message, a message of hope, love, tolerance, acceptance, but most importantly a promise to never stop fighting. She received a rousing round of applause, mostly from open-minded students and fat activists from off campus who came to watch the speech. She was cheered on loudly as she left the stage after bravely stepping in front of the cameras and showing everyone the love and pride she had in her body. She was fat, loud, proud, and everyone at the speech loved it.

After it was over, I changed the channel and watched a soccer game while I prepared beef shrimp alfredo. For the next two hours, I watched as my favorite team sputtered to a 0-0 tie in an out-of-conference friendly. As the game entered stoppage time, I heard a knock at the door. I rose to my feet and made my way over.

“I’m home, Daddy,” said a voice from behind the door.

I opened the door and waiting for me was the same girl who just gave the speech, standing in front of me in all of her morbidly obese glory. She stood beaming at me and breathing rather hard, understandable seeing as she had to walk up two stories to get to my apartment. I reached for her neck unopposed and grabbed the dog tag on her collar, reading my etched name.

“What took you so long, fatty?” I spat at her.

I didn’t give time to answer. Instead, I grabbed her collar, pulled her inside, and threw her to the ground; knocking over her fat, clumsy body was like knocking over a poorly balanced Jenga tower.

“I’m sorry Daddy,” she mewled as she tried to get to her feet.

“Nuh uh uh,” I scolded as I reached into the pocket of my robe, grabbed the leash to her collar, and attached it. “There. Now answer me, what took you so long? I bet you’re fat ass couldn’t take five steps without needing a breather.”

“I had to stop and get food,” she explained, looking up at me from her knees.

“Stupid pig,” I snarled as I slapped her right across the face. “You couldn’t wait until you got home? I’ve got a pot of shrimp fettucini alfredo ready!”

“I was hungry Daddy,” she pleaded with me as she grabbed my leg and held onto it. “Please forgive me, Daddy, I promise I’ll be a good piggy.”

“If you want to be a good piggy, you’re going to eat what I put in front of you,” I said. “That food will not go to waste.”

She nodded her head and I walked her over to the dinner table. She climbed onto the reinforced dining chair, ordered to keep her quarter-ton of flab and flesh supported, and I handcuffed her hands behind the back. I then reached down and tied her ankles to the chair’s legs, completely immobilizing her. I grabbed a mixing bowl from the cupboard and filled it with enough pasta to feed a family of six. Of course, as you likely guessed, a family of six will not be eating this pasta.

“Open up, piggy,” I demanded.

I forced forkfuls of fatty shrimp and creamy pasta down her fat throat as I have many times before. She was like an eating machine, just an endless pit for food to be thrown down in copious quantities, never to be seen ever again. Every mouthful was met with sensual moans as she savored the delicious flavor of butter, parmesan, cream, garlic, parsley, grilled shrimp, and fettucini pasta. As I filled up her gargantuan gut, her belly seemed to expand a bit, hanging further over her knees. I kept piling on the food, feeling the heavy bowl of pasta get lighter and lighter as she ate more.

“You’re making a mess, piggy,” I scolded as my helpless feedee tried to wipe off her food-covered face.

“I’m sorry I’m such a fat slob,” she apologized as she winced in pain from the tightness of her belly.

I kept feeding her, sometimes dangling the noodles just outside of her mouth’s reach only for her to whimper and whine pathetically until I gave it to her.

“You like it when I do that, don’t you?” I teased her. “I can smell you getting wet.”

She didn’t say anything, her mouth was too full. For that, I pulled her leash to the right, threatening to tip over the chair that she was bound to.

“I asked you a question, piggy,” I snarled softly in her ear. “I asked you if you liked that.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she whimpered.

Eventually, she finished all of the pasta. She laid back in her chair trying to relieve the pressure on her distended gut. She moaned, whined, and whimpered in pain as she digested all of the creamy goodness I just forced into her belly.

“Do you want dessert, piggy?” I asked her.

She turned her head and with puppy-doglike desperate eyes, she nodded her head.

“Really?” I said, pretending to be shocked and disgusted. “After you ate all of that pasta you still have room for more?”

“Yes, daddy,” she replied.

I scoffed in disgust as I stood up, unfastened my feedee from her chair, and walked her to the kitchen. I opened the fridge and found the whole peanut butter fudge cheesecake I had bought for her, the one with enough calories to feed an entire platoon of marines for a week. I grabbed the cake and gently set it down on the floor. I then pulled my feedee’s leash downward, taking her down to her hands and knees.

“Eat it, all of it,” I demanded.

Without a second thought, she hungrily began eating the cake on her hands and knees like the squealing fat pig she was. Her rolls, breasts, and belly swung like pendulums as she ate and her buttocks bounced up and down with each movement.

“If only your activist friends could see you,” I said. “And I mean the real you, the fat disgusting pig that you are. Do they say anything about your weight? I can tell they’re whispering behind your back, you’ve gained over a hundred pounds in a year! Everyone can see how much of a food-addicted eating-machine that you are.”

My feedee just nodded her head absentmindedly as she continued to chomp away at the cheesecake.

“HOW ABOUT YOU FUCKING ANSWER ME!” I demanded as I grabbed the back of her head and forced her face into the cheesecake, getting peanut butter, fudge, and makeup everywhere. I kept her face down as she struggled to breathe, desperately squirming pathetically for air. I finally let her up after I was satisfied with her punishment and she sputtered as she tried to wipe the cheesecake off of her face.

“I’m sorry I’m such a stupid fat whore,” she apologized, sounding as sincere as can be. “They would all hate me, everyone would think I’m just a greedy, gluttonous, fat whore. My career would be ruined because everyone would know the truth.”

“I didn’t say stop eating,” I spat as I forced her head back into the cheesecake. “Goodness, you’ve blown up like a blimp! You already looked silly with your belly and your rolls hanging out before, now you look even more ridiculous. And look at your ass in these shorts, they’re so tight!”

I smacked her ass and she released a high-pitched yelp.

“And look at you, all of this is making you wet,” I taunted. “Are you horny, piggy?”

“Yes Daddy, please take me,” she begged. “Please breed me like a good sow.”

I tugged her shorts off of her fat legs as she continued to chow down on her cheesecake. I parted my bathrobe, kneeled behind her gargantuan ass, and slipped inside her sopping wet cunt. She moaned as I pushed all of the way in slowly before stifling them with more cheesecake.

“Yes, yes, YES!” she screamed as her entire body rippled ocean waves with each thrust. I glided in and out of her effortlessly and savagely smacked her ass cheeks, drawing out more yelps and moans. “Breed me, Daddy!”

“I don’t think you deserve it,” I taunted. “I think you’re getting too proud, too confident. I think you’re starting to believe all of your drivel.”

“No, Daddy, it’s all lies,” she moaned. “I’m just a fat slut who’s fat because she’s lazy and can't stop eating! I lied to everybody about my thyroid and about running two miles every day! Everything is a lie, we’re all just lazy hedonistic pigs!”

“That’s right and don’t forget it,” I grunted as I pushed her head down into the cheesecake and began to pound her fat ass with all of my weight, driving her into the messy kitchen floor.

I pounded away mercilessly for who knows how long, just as rough and cold as I knew she liked it. I tried my best to leave my handprint on her soft, juicy ass by smacking it over and over again until it turned bright red. I then heard her moan louder than before and felt her vagina tighten around my cock ever-so-slightly. She then proceeded to squirt all over the kitchen floor, making an even bigger mess.

“Look at you, rolling around in your own filth,” I taunted.

“Oink oink,” she chimed as she shook her ass, signaling me to keep going.

So I pounded away at her massive ass, feeling myself ready to explode as well. I built up pressure and released, filling her fertile womb with strands of hot seed. I pulled out of her and removed the leash from her collar.

“Clean this mess up,” I demanded. “Before I start taking pictures to blackmail you with.”

“Anything for you, Daddy,” she replied with a wink, indicating that she was going to take her sweet time.

[feederheart]

CW: humiliation, degrading, weight gain.

Backyard.

How’s my pig doing today? You’ve hardly even moved this week at all; you only left the bed to get more food and use the restroom. It doesn’t look like you’ve done anything today, you're just laying there in the underwear you outgrew forty pounds ago. Your massive belly looks bigger than ever; it’s covering almost all of your thighs. Your legs are so fat that you’re showing signs of developing cankles. The fat on your forearms swings and jiggles as they perform the only activities you ever do all day, lifting up the remote and shoveling greasy, rich food in your mouth. Your breasts have been growing even larger, this right here is the largest bra you have and it looks ready to snap! Your massive ass is spread out like pancake batter on a griddle and it just keeps getting flabbier and softer the longer you sit on it.

You used to be a vibrant, bright, and brilliant girl. Honors student, varsity athlete, student government, blah blah, and it’s still incredibly shocking even looking at a before picture. What happened? Did you just snap one day?” Did you wake up and realize that you were miserable and that the only thing that brought you real happiness was food and being somebody’s fat pig? I can remember all of the shocked faces of your friends and family every time we visited and they noticed that your athletic body was becoming buried underneath mounds of fat. You didn’t seem to notice but you also started to come off as… more airheaded than usual. You were raised a very conservative girl but every time they saw you, you were wearing something skimpier, wearing more makeup and jewelry, and of course, had many more pounds of fat spilling out and over your clothes. Conversations with you often turn to the subject of food and how hungry you were. You used to be interested in aerospace engineering and physics but now all you seem to care about is how many fattening calories you can stuff down your throat.

I’m just glad that you’re happy. As a matter of fact, I’ve never seen you this happy before! Now that you are finally a borderline-immobile tub of lard who gets to eat all of her favorite foods. Your friends and family try and call you, send unsolicited advice, try to intervene on your behalf, and beg you to eat a salad but they don’t realize that you’re happy. If being a fat, happy pig is what you want then you should be able to get just that. 

However, you still need to get some exercise in. How about I grab your leash and walk you on all fours in the backyard for a few laps? It will just be long enough to keep your body strong enough to hold its extra quarter-ton of fat. You always love being walked around like a pet and don’t seem to mind much when the neighbors get a glimpse of you. Your friends even saw you once and were mystified. I know you’re comfortable but how about I bribe you? I’ll make you another peanut butter milkshake that you love so much, the one with enough calories to last several days. I love watching you gulp that down in minutes as if it were water. 

Glad to see that worked. I’ll go get the leash. Oh and by the way, the neighbor is having a party on his balcony, it would be a shame if they saw your massive jiggling ass slosh back and forth and your belly and breasts drag on the ground as I walk you around the yard. Maybe they won’t notice if we are quiet. How about I gag you before we go outside so that you stay quiet, I don’t want them to hear your moans and screams when I have my way with you. You, on the other hand, would love that, wouldn’t you fat whore?

I guess I’ll just be careful.

[feederheart]

The best kind of fatties ❤️

Needy, pretty and weak fatties are my favorite ♥️✨

[feederheart]

Reblog if you are a BBW or have a blog dedicated to BBWs 😍🙌🙏

I want to follow you guys

[feederheart]

I love fattening piggies up to where they can’t do things they once did.

You know like running. Tying your shoes. Getting off the couch with ease.

Just wait until you can’t buy clothes from your favorite store. Or fit into booths at restaurants.

Outgrow your entire wardrobe.

Be too big for theme park rides.

For one plane seat.

For your small car.

Just wait until you break your first scale piggy.

What’s crazy is no one will suspect my fit self for doing it to you.

They’ll think you’re just a pig with no self control.

But that’s what you are now.

A greedy pig with no self control🐷