#queer feedist

[weirdw00d]

🖤2021 to 2024 Complete Weight Gain Journey🖤

The above video is a preview for my newest clip! To celebrate the New Year, I've compiled hundreds of pictures from January 2021 to December 2024, all highlighting my insane weight gain from that period. Featuring pics, clips, and my narration over them, you won't find a better catalogue of my transformation👀

It's a completely comprehensive look at my recent gain, and it's live on all my sites and available as a discount to OF subscribers. Check out my pinned post for ways to find it!

[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.

[wumbowitch]

I was feeling SO soft shooting my weigh in and measurements last night 💗 dropping on OF shortly!

[tteessiiee]

Can you tell I've gained a bit? ✨

It always surprises me how little is enough to make me look way fatter. That is just 14 kgs! Slowly gained 14 kgs. I don't think I can stop gaining 🥺 It is less then 4 kgs per year! How could i gain even less?? I can easily gain that in 2 months if I try to. 🥺🥺

I will be well over 90 (200 lbs) in next 5 years like that 😭 Even if i don't give in to my feedee tendencies!

Can you imagine how fat I gonna get if I do it intentionally? 😏

Btw belly sure, fat all over sure, buttt - the double chin? ✨

(My OF here)

[butchbear-in-progress]

They're called love handles because I love to handle them

[weirdw00d]

Obsessed with the way my belly has been hanging recently 💜

My fansite is currently 50% off for the holidays! Treat yourself 👀

[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.

[tteessiiee]

Real life feedee be like:

My physiotherapy classmate (gym rat ofc): *looks at me smiling and sais "Sport is our life. Isn't it?"

Me: "Em... Not that much actually."

Him: *confused, not smiling anymore*

He kinda cares about me, such a sweetie. He sometimes tries to convince me to move more (he noticed im slowly getting fatter). And today i really saw the pitty and pain in his eyes, as if he was thinking "girllll, you should do some sport, you are getting fat 🥺"

Poor boy, he has no idea i'm a feedee and i gonna gain way more 🐷✨

Btw he also told me that his bmi is higher than 30. But not because of fat - he is so muscular! And muscles are heavy. And you know what i almost replied? "Well my isnt 30, not yet" 😂 I stopped myself so i just nod and didnt say anything 🤣 Actually it probably gonna be 30 before i finish the university... 👉👈💕🍩

[butchbear-in-progress]

Congratulate me for hitting one year on T

Feedists only, we aren't doing that shit again

[pocchari-hime]

🍒 ❤️ 🍒 ❤️ 🍒 ❤️

A true shame my matching necklace isn't visible in any of the pictures.

🍒 ❤️ 🍒 ❤️ 🍒 ❤️

[weird-wood]

Hey everyone! As you can see this blog has been reinstated, yay! Unfortunately, I've already started another blog and am having a lot of fun over there, so if you haven't followed @weirdw00d yet then please do!

For now this blog will act as a backup and archive just in case (god forbid) my other blog gets terminated. But if you wanna keep up with my weight gain and other shenanigans, be sure to follow my new blog!

[weirdw00d]

Before and after a trip to the night market where I completely gorged myself 🥰 I think these pics also really show off the ten pounds I've gained during this visit with my partner 😇 I've been feeling so massive.

Also no joke, when I was walking into the night market I almost got stuck in one of the turnstiles 😳 so embarrassing but sooo hot 😩

[love--bites]

In love with the idea of a feeder who takes their feedee out to dinner and buys the feedee food. The feedee feels flattered and maybe even a little pressured to finish it all, despite the somewhat large portion. But then the food just doesn't stop coming. The feedee continues to cram more and more food down the throat, although the stomach feels like it's about to burst, because they know the feeder is paying for all of this delicious food, and they couldn't bear seeing it go to waste. They don't understand why the feeder keeps order more and more, though, and even as the empty plates begin stacking into piles, the fattening orders don't slow down. Eventually, the restaurant runs out of food to provide, and the pair are asked to leave, but the feeder has to help the feedee out with all that newfound weight dragging them down.

[overstuffd]

So, feedee werewolf won, obviously, because you're all a bunch of bottoms (loving).

So here are some more thoughts.

When I find you in the woods you're cold, scared - and hungry.

I bring you back to my cottage, offer you some clothes to replace your soaked rags. They're a few sizes too big but you're grateful.

Slowly, you piece together last night. The transformation - the gorging yourself on chickens from the farmer a few miles over.

I smile and offer you a firm, gentle hand. Don't worry - I'm here to help. You're so relieved you don't notice how deep my nails dig into the flesh of your arm.

First, I want you comfortable. I draw you a warm bath to shake off the night before. The fire is crackling, and the incense I light leaves you feeling dozy and calm.

After your bath there are more soft, large clothes - you wonder who they are for - and a proper meal, you look like you need one, poor thing!

You don't realise how late it's gotten, but I've prepared a King's supper. A roast ham and a whole cold chicken, a loaf of bread still warm from the oven, a huge tray of butter roasted potatoes, pumpkin and carrots, glazed in honey. There are soft fried eggs in a dish, and jars of cramy sauces and pickles. You set about making yourself a huge sandwhich, and you're almost done before you realise you didn't wait to be invited to eat.

You blush as you look up at at me, but I wave your concerns away. I set the table for you, enjoy it.

As you eat, I explain your condition, and the words are so distracting you barely notice how many brick sized sandwiches you're gulping down.

You're a werewolf, poor little lamb, I explain. The fellow with the dark eyes you let take you home from the bar a few weeks ago - those bite marks aren't the only thing he left with you.

Your curse is to transform every full moon into a creature controlled purely by desire and animal need - yourself in an unihinited, bestial form, with power to do as you will. I know, it must be scary sweet thing - here, try one of these custard buns.

The good news is, as you've probably guessed, I'm more than just familar with the arcane and supernatural. I'm quite a skilled practitioner of magics, and with your cooperation I can make the next full moon much less dangerous for everyone.

You're so grateful to hear - the memories of the night before that are flashning through your mind scare you, as much as they stir something else, deep at the root of your stomach.

I tell you to eat up and get some sleep, I'll begin your training - your instruction, that is - tomorrow.

-

You wake and breakfast is ready - cooked meats, more eggs and poetatoes, and pastries, fruit - you don't take it all in before you start eating, you're ravenous.

Your hair is longer, you notice as I idly play with it, and is spreading down you neck and across your shoulders. You shovel more eggs, another chocolate stuffed puff-pastry treat, not thinking it at all strange as I work out one of the stress knots in your shoulder.

After breakfast - the third plate of which you eat at my insistence - I start teaching you about herblore.

Your wolf form - I explain - is an extension of your self. Don't think of yourself and them as separate creatures, they are your needs and desires made flesh. The better state you are going into the full moon, the more docile your wolf form.

As I talk, you are distracted by my fingers rolling thumb-fat herbal cigarettes into tight cones. My voice watches ovr you as the repetitive movement makes you feel dozy.

Lavender, or course, and chamomile, for calm and stillness. Mallow root for dreaminess. Oatflower for - making you open to influence. My, postitive influence. Heather for appetite - you're going to need your strength. Mugwort to enhance sensation, to keep you in touch with your body. A few others from my garden - I'm passioante about creating potent cross strains.

I place one of the joints in your mouth and light the tip, flicking away the ash as your hungry mouth starts the cone before your conscious mind has time to realise what's happening. I pull the joint away and take a hit myself, you taking a moment to greedily gasp air, before I press my lips against yours and shotgun the herbal mixture directly into your neuro-cortex.

Your head swims, and your brain short circuits as I place a hand on your thigh. You stuggle to regain your composure, as a bell in the kitchen goes off.

Oh - lunch is ready!

As I sidle off to the kitchen, you realise how warm you feel between your thighs from the contact.

-

Lunch is a shepherds pie, and I make no move to serve a portion, just place the whole dish in front of you with a huge spoon breaking the crisp crust and fragrant steam spilling into the air.

You don't hesitate, you pick up the spoon and start digging in. The food smells delicious, and you're already ravenous despite the huge breakfast. You swallow mouthful after mouthful of rich, savoury food as I explain more to you, slowly and clearly like you've realise you need.

Fullness is important. I explain, gently. I'm across the table but my foot is playing with the inside fo your thigh. The hungrier you are, the more dangerous your wolf is. It's so important that you stay full. I'm going to do my best, okay, but you need to tell me as soon as there's any room in your belly, sweet thing.

You nod happily, barely looking up from you pie.

Good dog, I say, as I ruffle you hair.

-

Dinner comes, pinning you to you chair in the kitchen, and as you eat I explain how important it is that you indulge all your needs now, while you're still a soft, safe human.

You are barely listening, enjoying dragging more of the soft, fresh and heavily buttered bread through more of the delicious, spiced stew. It's one again full of my specially chosen herbs, but you don't need to know that. You've found yourself needing to know less and less all day.

You look a little pent up dear, I say, softly, walking round to your end of the table. No - you keep eating. I know just what to do.

I slide under the table and gently pull down the trousers I leant you. They're loose - for now - and come down easily so I can take you in mouth. I gently suck as you swallow more food.

I don't know if you realise how much you're moaning, but I suspect it has as much to do with the meal as it does with my fingers teasing your hole.

You finish your dinner before you finish in my mouth, already such a good pet. Tomorrow we'll have much more to do to make you safe, but for now I'll walk your heavy, drowsy form to the bed and rub your bloated belly till you sleep.

[fatfundiplover]

May or may not be built like this 😵‍💫

They/them

[queercoshon]

A Kept Play Thing Pt. 2

(You can read the whole story at once on my deviantart, feedtheboi)

Now the tray contains 6 breakfast sandwiches on vanilla glazed doughnuts instead of english muffins, enough hashbrowns to feed 4 people with no other sides, a container of strawberries with yogurt dip, and 2 milkshakes that you don't know are spiked. The pineapple coconut has 3 shots of rum and a shot of coconut liqueur, and the chocolate one is infused with THC.

You get to work right away. You suck down half the pineapple milkshake and 3 of the sandwiches in the blink of an eye, completely overwhelmed by the need to consume. You throw back more beer and use the carbonation to dislodge a string of heavy burps.

Now you are so drunk things sway a little. You giggle as you reach for the bong and miss it the first time before lighting up and taking a long draw. Olivia was so good at keeping it clean and freshly packed for you. You manage to grab the tin tray of hashbrowns and load them with ketchup and cheese curds. Then you turn what little attention you had to the TV that was constantly on, putting your eating on autopilot.

You mindlessly shovel loaded potato after potato into your mouth, sometimes taking a good drink of either milkshake, and of course more beer. Your head is sooo fuzzy and your body so warm. You feel like you were watching your body expand with every bite. You couldn't stop yourself from eating when in a trance like this.

You hit your first wall with maybe a fifth of the tray left. Your gut gurgles testily, absolutely stretched out and burbling with fatty foods and booze. Your upper belly juts out further than the bottom of your belly hang and is as hard as a rock under the inches of flab. Your breath hitches and your pray you didn't get hiccups. Those were painful at this stage.

You sit back and moan, rubbing your gut as gingerly as possible. In your state, it is not very gingerly. And this far gone, you can't help give it a few jostles to bounce it on your crotch. You gasp and automatically reach for a milkshake, finishing off the chocolate flavour entirely.

Now you're so inebriated you feel like you phase in and out of existence. The weight of your stomach pins you down, and all you can do is stare at the ceiling, glassy-eyed and drooling a little. Your hands keep working at your flabby gut, releasing belches that just fall from your mouth.

Some amount of time passes, you have no idea how much, and you start to come back to earth a little. You look back at your tray and light another hit of your bong. Your mouth should never be idle.

You look at another beer, but the thought of it makes your belly flip, so you suck back almost all of the last milkshake. A new round of drunk washes over you, and you start working through those sandwiches and strawberries.

Now you're much sloppier. You have to really focus on getting the next bites into your mouth. Some yogurt dip ends up on your face, but it's impressive you can even you can coordinate picking up the strawberry, dipping it, and bringing your hand to your mouth at all.

You get through all of the strawberries, the last of the milkshake, the rest of the potatoes, and 2 of the sandwiches. One sandwich left.

You feel like you can hear your stomach creaking now. Every breath is a struggle. Every burp and drunken hiccup makes you fear vomiting everything back up. Sweat drips down your forehead, and you find you can't lean forward to get the last sickly sweet sandwich. Once again, you are pinned to your spot.

Your eyes feel swollen they're so dry, and cottonmouth is taking over with the milkshakes gone. You only have beer left, but you're so drunk your chin has started falling to your fat chest if you stop focusing on keeping your head up. Your overburdened body feels so light and so heavy at the same time. You try several times to reach for the beer, but you can't lift your arm much higher than the crest of your belly before you lose control and it falls back down. You are truly gone. Stoned out of your mind, too drunk to form a coherent thought, and so stuffed one wrong move could make you burst. Completely helpless.

It can't have been more than five minutes of suffering in your semi-catatonic state when you somehow register the click of the front door. Like a summoned angel, Olivia has arrived in your time of need.

You can't look up without the world spinning, but you know she's entered the room by the sound of her chuckle.

"Oh, piggy. You were so close. A little bit too full?"

You let out a rumbling burp in response.

She starts dragging her nails over your taut flesh, and it's like sparks dance across your skin. You try to hold back a high-pitched gasp, but it's jostled out of you along with several burps as Olivia adds pressure to your gut. You devolve into pained and desperate moans burps and hiccups, making all of your fat jiggle constantly.

"So tell me, baby, why is there food left?" She plants kisses on your belly, and the feeling lingers on your skin, making every nerve jolt awake. You can barely think as it is, and now she expects a verbal answer.

"I -hic- couldnn reachit -hicURP-" your chin lulls back down, and your hiccups start in earnest. Your gut moves as one giant orb now, bouncing on your crotch. Had you tried, you would have realised this was the first time you couldn't reach around your belly to get off.

Her eyes glint as she kisses up your many necks and flicks a nipple, making you gasp and throb.

"Oh? Did piggy get beached? Did I put it too far away?"

You try to nod, but you get one head motion before it falls back down. Fuck you are so drunk your body won't follow any direction at all.

"I'll put it closer to you next time. Now, let's get the rest of this in you." Olivia shoves the last sandwich in your mouth as you once again fire off a burp. You're taken completely by surprise, and while your body won't obey you, it will certainly obey her, so you take a massive bite and swallow. Your moans and grumbles of weak protest are silenced by another bite.

It takes about ten minutes, but she gets the rest of the sandwich in your mouth. You pant, hiccup, and burp, a cacophony of hedonistic indulgence.

Olivia straddles one of your meaty thighs and begins to rub your belly in earnest, but letting her hands wander to whatever fold of fat she felt like fondling.

"You've been such a good piggy today. Look at you. Completely stuck. You could burst." She lifts your chin up to meet her gaze, and her eyes are dark. "How do you feel, pig?"

She wants you to answer verbally. Your slurring and struggling is enough to make her start dripping. Right now you don't know if you can form even a full word.

Her nails dig into your stomach and you wince.

"Answer me."

You moan and try. "I'm sho -hic- full, Liv. It -burrp Hic- hurts to -hic- breave." You belch and she drops your chins. As your head falls to the side, she becomes ravenous, and suddenly her rubs, grabs, and kisses get desperate.

"You're such a desperate hog. Always gorging. You haven't been sober since the day you moved in."

Her tongue traces along your purple hued stretch marks, and she grabs your love handles and shakes, making your entire body wobble. Your gut slaps your thighs and crotch, and you see stars.

"Liv, -UUrapp- pleash -hic-"

She rubs your fat chest, her eyes glinting. "What do you want, pet?"

"I want...-hic- mae me huuge. Just a -hUrrp- ball... urr plaything."

Olivia moans and grinds down on your meaty leg, pressing her lithe body into your pillowy excess. Every movement is shaking burps out of you. Heat pulses from your crotch, to your finger tips and toes, to the tip of your head and back of your eyes, to the center of your beyond aching gut.

"Fuuu...me"

She breathes in your ear and her hands work down your flab. "What was that, pig?"

"Mmmm, fuck -urrrp- fuck me!"

Finally, she obliges.