#dom feedist

[mortiskiller]

Pignapped

Content warning: Contains violent language, physical harm, non-consensual feedism and other acts. This is just a story, don't be weird.

A commission for @collegefatty10

He was on the way back to the car after grabbing a pizza. It was routine at this point in his life. Eating all day without regard to his ever-increasing weight had led to some interesting eating habits. A breakfast sandwich in the morning had become three sandwiches with hash browns and two doughnuts. Lunch steadily grew into a multi-hour affair with trips to multiple drive-thru visits, door dash orders, desk drawers filled with snacks, and not to mention a new habit of pre-gaming before dinner. Driving to get his pizza led to stopping for fries, or nuggets, or a combo meal, or all of that, before he picked up his next greasy calorie bomb. This routine made his day predictable, pigs are simple after all. The same places and employees watched him fatten from the low 300s to his heaving 430 pounds. Day after day, pound after pound he kept ordering more. As his waddle slowed, his gut hung lower and lower, his face getting red and sweaty from the 20-foot walk from the car to the pizzeria, he was an easy target.

I had seen him months before on a lunch break. My eyes shot open as saw a hanging lard pile of a man puff his way into McDonald’s. It was a passing horny thought that I would see him again, maybe add it to my mental bank of images and memories to jerk off to later. Yet, he kept coming to the same places again, and again, and again till it was too much to resist. I mapped out his route, timed him as ordered, and ate his feasts. Noted how he favored his right leg as he waddled, his arms struggling to carry the ever-increasing amount of food he ordered. As I watched him, I couldn't help but notice the way his right leg bore the brunt of his weight, the limp a constant reminder of his indulgent lifestyle. I wondered how long he had been living like this, how many times he had ordered a pizza and not once thought about the consequences. I knew he would be easy to take. Easy to keep docile, dumb, and growing.

I waited till the moon was just a sliver in the night sky outside his favorite pizzeria. Checking my watch, as it ticked over to 8:40 pm, his sedan pulled into the parking lot, the front driver’s side sitting low as my soon-to-be pet pig drove. I watched from my hiding spot as he struggled to haul his massive frame out of the driver's seat, grunting and wheezing with the effort. The scent of greasy pizza wafted through the air as he waddled towards the entrance, his heavy footfalls reverberating on the pavement.

Once he was safely inside i made my move, slipping silently into the shadows and following him at a distance. Inside, he placed his usual order - a large meat lover's pizza with extra cheese and a side of garlic knots. His eyes gleamed with anticipation as he paid for his meal, oblivious to the predator lurking in the darkness behind him.

As he turned to leave, I struck swiftly and silently, wrapping a thick cloth bag over his head. He struggled weakly for a moment before I pushed him back to the car. With ease, I kicked his right knee from the back and watched as he tumbled into the truck. His muffled moans of confusion and fear barely registering over the hum of the engine. He was mine now, another victim added to my collection.

I paused for a moment, considering my next move. He was a strange yet fascinating addition to my collection, and I relished the thought of having him under my control. I could see him squirming in the back, his heavy breathing and muffled cries a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

I parked the car in a secluded spot, away from any prying eyes. The moon now a hazy glow, bathing everything in a sickly light. I approached the car, opened the rear door, and lifted my newest prize out of the vehicle.

He was heavier than he looked, his bulk making it difficult for me to handle him. But I had experience, and I was patient. I carried him to a nearby abandoned warehouse, the cold metal of the hinges echoing as I pushed open the door.

Once inside, I placed him on a table, still wearing the cloth bag over his head.

"Hey, buddy," I cooed to the pig, my voice low and sinister. "You know, you're not going to like what's going to happen to you. I've got some pretty wicked plans for you. I'm going to fatten you up, relentlessly, until there's barely anything left of your dignity or self-esteem. You see, we're going to use you, and we're going to pleasure you in ways you can't even imagine."

The pig let out a soft grunt, the sounds muffled by the cloth bag still securing his head. I chuckle, a dark and twisted sound that reverberates through the cold, empty warehouse. Taking a step closer, my shoes scraped against the rough concrete floor.

"I've been collecting things like you for years," I whispered, running his hands over his captive's plump body. "I've come across so many of your kind, just like you, loving your comfort and your food. And I've had my way with them all. Oh, I've had so much fun, and you're next on my list."

As I approach the pig, who is still covered in the bag, he lets out a soft whimper and shakes his head, trying to free himself. His body wobbles with each attempt as he struggles against his bonds. Belly aching with his last meal the movement causes an unintended blech from beneath the bag. Swiftly, I remove the bag from the pig's head, revealing a face red, sweating, and fearful. The pig's eyes are wide and terrified as he stares up at me, taking in his new surroundings - cold concrete walls bare of any decoration, a king-sized bed next to a small bathroom, and a large full-body mirror.

"Look at you," I say with a hint of disgust mixed with fascination, "just look at what you've become."

"You know what you are now?" I ask quietly, “You are my plaything, a toy, a fat weak blubbery toy!” my digs deep into his belly hang, bringing a painful whine from the pig’s mouth.

"You are mine, completely and entirely," I continue, my voice growing menacing, "and I'm going to do whatever I want with you at my command." The pig tries to struggle again, but his movements are weak and pathetic. "Oh, but first things first," I say, walking over to the bed where I had left a set of handcuffs.

I restrained the pig on the bed, at once reluctant and terrified to yield to such volition.

"You'll get used to it, trust me," I say, my fingers tracing curious paths over his bulging form. "Maybe then you'll even enjoy it."

With the pig cuffed to the headboard and footboard, I began to study him, taking in every last curve and fold of his form. He looked so helpless and vulnerable like a lost child in desperate need of a firm hand to guide him.

Noticing the glaze that had settled over his eyes, I thought, 'Now we're getting somewhere.'

Methodically, I began to examine him as if he were an exotic creature, taking note of each flaw that had been revealed by my rough handling.

He would be my plaything, my plump and innocent pig. And I would use him, treat him, and abuse him in ways that would break him completely. I would fatten him up and weaken him until his body could no longer bear the weight of his own flesh. I would use every inch of this vulnerable creature, making him my own personal toy.

As I stood over him, watching him squirm pathetically on the bed, my mind raced with all the ways in which I could degrade him. My hands moved over his flesh, feeling him shake beneath my touch. I could feel the warmth of his skin, the softness of his fur, the weight of the fat that filled his body. It was all so delicious, so intoxicating, that I found myself growing hard at the thought of what I could do with him.

My fingers brushing feather-light against his skin, teasing him with every passing second. It was then that I decided upon the next part of his degradation. With a smirk playing on my lips, I retrieved a bucket from the floor, its contents sloshing against the sides with every move I made. It was filled to the brim with a half-gallon of lard-filled slop, designed to both fuel his growing hunger and make him feel even more vulnerable in his restraints.

As I drew closer, the pig let out a small whine, his eyes widening in fear and anticipation. He knew what was coming. I brought the bucket towards his mouth, and with a practiced hand, I tilted it so that the contents would flow easily. A funnel was inserted into his mouth, and with a cruel smirk, I watched as the slop began to pour down his throat, filling him to the brim.

End of Part 1.

[overstuffd]

No baby, of course you can't eat a whole cake.

Just have as much as you want now, and we can save the rest for later.

Here I poured you a glass of milk to wash it down with too.

I cut you a couple slices - well you always get a second one anyway, I thought I'd save you time.

Gone already? Let me grab another piece - no, I insist. You deserve to indulge yourself a little.

How much have you had? Why are you worrying about a silly thing like that. Here, this is just a small piece, I'm sure you have room.

Come on cutie, don't act shy - I know you want to ask for more. Here, I won't even cut a piece, just break off a little morsel and feed it to you.

See? That was easy to gulp down wasn't it? I bet you can eat another little piece like that.

And another.

And another.

Come on now, be a good pet and finish the last piece, you're so close now. It would be a shame to leave such a little bit left over. There you go, slump back gorgeous and feel your gut spread. You did so good for me.

I knew you could do it. That's why I got another cake for tomorrow - just in case there weren't any leftovers.

[adiproseprose]

Don't get me wrong, being crushed by your feedee is great, but have you ever made a larder so weak that if they ever try to stand up without your help, they just *plop* back down to wherever their sitting like the blobs they are? Too heavy to get up without building momentum, watching their bellies swing and right when it grazes the floor, the slightest push to their wobbly chest sends them crashing backwards, cellulite dimpled ass spreading out beneath them? Pinning them to the bed with nothing but your grip around their swollen wrist and the weight of their belly pressing against the muscles in their back?

Pretty soon gravity will take over the job of keeping them pinned to one spot anyways.

[secr3treveal3d]

Happy Holidays, my pets 🐷🐮🐳

I hope your day was as Sweet as mine.

OF on sale for the remainder of the year 😘

[ssbbwxutjja]

As I look at you now, I'm reminded of the cruel words you once spoke about my weight, how you couldn't understand what your father saw in a big, blubbery, American blob of a woman like me. But I know your secrets, my darling little piglet—I know you've got a feeder's passion, a feedee's appetite, and a humiliation kink that drives you wild. I have to admit, watching you balloon into the very thing you once ridiculed has been a twisted thrill—your once fit body is now engulfed in lard, your willpower destroyed by greed. What started as revenge has become something more, a forbidden attraction that I can barely contain. I've touched myself thinking of you, imagining the way you've surrendered to your cravings, and I know you've fantasized about me too—jerked off to the thought of mommy. The whole time never realizing that mommy has been thinking of you too. Why deny ourselves any longer? It can be our dirty, not-so-little secret.

[growmydarling]

from tender touches and gentle encouragement, to stuffing you in the basement and force feeding thousands of calories an hour into that round gut!

credit @spookyfats and 3pie14 on furaffinity

[overstuffd]

It's about always encouraging you to have that extra treat.

Stopping at every bakery that catches your eye to get you a little something sweet.

Bringing you a comforting coffee in the morning, and maybe another as a pick me up in the afternoon.

Fixing you a hefty plate of cheese, crackers and grapes when you finish work to keep your strength up.

Pouring that second glass of wine at dinner, and topping it up for you.

Cutting you an extra- large slice of cake afterwards, then encouraging you to finish mine.

Making sure you're always taken care of, you're always spoiled and you're always full.

[jomax93]

Welcome Pig

welcome to my dungeon pig. This is where you live now. Your purpose in life now is to eat for me and serve all my sexual fantasy's and desires. I own you and I want that belly kept full.

[adiproseprose]

Here are some good goals for aspiring death feedee's [in an attempt at chronological order]

Drinking melted butter/ice cream/margarine/ranch dressing out of gluttony

so fat you develop a waddle

needing an oxygen cannula to breathe

unable to bend your arms due to how fat they are

heart palpations after you masturbate or have sex

your first reinforced bed

unable to make it up the stairs

belly smacking against your thighs when you walk

belly forces your thighs apart when you sit up in bed/on the couch

giving yourself diabetes

can no longer sit up on your own without being pinned by your massive tits/gut

cellulite on your face/the back of your neck

casual chest pains (while walking, lying in bed, eating taking a shit, etc.)

so wide you take up an entire couch

your first bariatric bed

too wide for a toilet/commode (bonus points if you already need a diaper)

your joints are too swollen to close

stretch marks look *angry*, violently red, borderline transluscent skin so you look like an adipose swollen balloon

unable to reach your pussy/cock anymore

reblog this with your own goals/goals you've hit already

[actuallyitschunkagain]

Oooooo look what I found 🙈

[carrieremberlyn]

It is revolutionary for any trans person to choose to be seen and visible in a world that tells us we should not exist

[fedcar273]

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A post shared by Fatbeachbabe (@fatbeachbabe)

[bigandplump]

She started off slowly at first.

Ice cream every night. A big breakfast every morning. Never finishing her meals. Always sliding her leftovers to you. Every meal was more buttery, more cheesy, more salty, more, more, more.

It was a subtle change at first. First your once tight pecs started to soften. Then your thighs began to spread a little more each time you sat down. The sitting was becoming more frequent. Then sitting down became squeezing in. You thought this was the end of your carefully crafted physique, in truth it was just the beginning. You hardly noticed the lines between your abs vanishing into your forming belly.

As your belly began to swell her fixation with it grew. She'd rest her hand on it. She'd rub it after dinner. The servings grew. She'd caress it while you slept. She started rubbing it during dinner. At first the growth was slow. Week by week your belly lurched outward. Then, perhaps finally, your straining metabolism gave way and your growth exploded.

You used to jog up the stairs until you realized your new moobs were bouncing on every step. Within weeks you were taking stairs one step at a time, taking deep breaths as you held your arm under your protruding belly to give your back a break. Chairs began to groan and strain under the intense pressure of your growing girth. Your belly entered every room before the rest of you. Now you're the largest person in every room you enter. Your subordinates peak at your immense belly nervously when you chat in the elevator. The bigger it grows the more they stare at it. You love it.

Today's Saturday, your favorite day of the week. She's baking a cake as you sit in your chair, smoking your cigar, and rubbing your humungous belly as it growls beneath your straining shirt. Tonight You'll eat until you can't eat any more. She may even break out the funnel if she wants you to be particularly huge for what comes next. A small protest may escape, but you will succumb to her will. When your belly has reached its throbbing, pregnant maximum she will get on her knees and oil your swollen mound. She may even choke your cock down her throat. Finally, when you're stuffed to the brim and oiled to her liking, you'll take her on the table. Your girth will nearly crush her. You're only a week, maybe two, from shattering the table with your growing body. Her hoarse voice will scream your name in delight as your thrusting belly lords a mighty shadow over her.

Help us grow and subscribe on Patreon for exclusive spicy content 🍑😋 patreon.com/BigandPlump

[adiproseprose]

‘God, I can’t wait for you to explode’

‘Just imagine this helpless piggy too big to walk’

‘No doubt she’ll be immobile soon…’

The addicting tight rush of fullness settles in my bloated gut. My third straight pitcher of weight gain shake collapses to the floor, and I struggle to shake the numbness out of my toes. If I could see them I’d know they were swollen and startlingly red, but I can’t see shit past my massive tits, hanging low to the center of my belly. I sink back into the couch and rub myself off, sausage fingers snaking into my underwear. My chins serve as a resting place for my exhausted head. 

I’ve always been something of an extremist. There was a time where I would count the calories on a baggy of baby carrots. I was a whore in every sense of the word, skinny as a pencil and duller than an eraser. I didn’t need anybody, I had the attention of every boy I made eye contact with. Skipped college and became a model, traveled all over the world. If you want, you can get my before and after shots. 45 bucks a piece, 112 vrs. 675. 

Nobody pays attention to you when you’re fat. 

I kicked the ball down the hill when my agency fired me, parents claiming I was giving their kids bulimia or some bullshit. The ball began to collect years of sugar, fat, salt and grease, hardly able to get out of bed without a mouthful of fresh endorphins. My veins swelled with lard, stomach overstretched and doubled over onto my fat padded knees. 

It was all very discouraging at first. I heard the gossip as I toddled along to my convenience store for my nightly dinner of mars bars and oven fries, about how tiny I used to be, if I was really the same girl. ‘Nobody wants to rub out a fat girl’. 

I drank a lot. Partied a lot. Had a lot of shitty, desperate sex that ended after 4 minutes with a sigh and a cigarette. Then I met this guy. He grabbed my belly and afterwards told me I could make a killing if I kept gaining weight. I told him to fuck off but I looked into it. Feedism is a deep, dark, somewhat fucked up world. But money is green, so I did some analysis. What did they like about these women, big asses, big tits, double chins? These women are making thousands of dollars just to eat. 

I piled on fat like batter in a cake tin. I’m round up top, double belly and huge boobs. Thickness in my face that I don’t love, but my ass is rounder than the moon. 

“Ohhhh…fuck *HIC*...fuck me. I might’ve had too much, guys.” I whine to the camera. I rub and shake my belly. 

“BURRPPP!” 

I like to read the comments while I masturbate. I scroll, an endless stream of aroused fans. 

‘700 bucks if you do a fourth!!111’

‘7 HUNDO!!!!!’

Over and over again this bitch. I roll my eyes. “500 dollars for another one Mr…Pigfarmer?” 

‘YES!!!’

He donates. And I fix the shake on my coffee table, bringing it to my lips. I wince. I really do not wanna throw up. 

“Gonna do this for you, Pigfarmer. Whoooo boy..” 

I down the shake in maybe 2 minutes and let the empty pitcher land on the floor with the others. “So *huff* fucking…fat. Can barely get… off the couch anymore..ughhhh…” 

‘I will feed you until your fucking feet fall off’

‘I can help you off the couch!!!’

‘I’ll feed you and fuck you until you can’t move baby’

This isn’t enough. I need to be fat enough to where anything is monetizable. Walking out to the car. Going up stairs. I’ve made a few sets of my rolling out bed, when my joints are aching and my waddle is exaggerated the most. 

I don’t get much out of this besides the money. If anything, it makes me feel gross. But I blend in effortlessly, I’ve gone so deep. I’m not a feedee. I am a fat fucking whale who happens to be fat because it makes me ridiculous amounts of money. It makes it a lot easier to smile. 

“Alright, guys, I’m gonna hop off. See you guys next time!! Love you!” 

I click. 1700 dollars from an hour stream. Not too bad. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and drum my belly. I’m numb. I’m covered in grease, shake powder and cum. I can barely make it through my day without that tight fullness now. I wheeze deeply as I contemplate what to eat for dinner.