#ssbbw lover

[caramel-poundcake]

[sockslippin]

I haven't posted anything from my personal stash in a while so here. 🫣

[thefatstonerchick]

ssbbw lovers click here 🥰

[extra-stout-stories]

About / Index of Stories

[FYI: This account replaces @cigarette-smoking-bird, which was shadowbanned by Tumblr. As of May 2024 all my content from that account has been reposted here and @cigarette-smoking-bird has been deleted.]

Writer. Fat4fat switchy feedist and mutual gainer. Believer in fat liberation and responsible hedonism. IRL smallfat in pursuit of a sustainable balance between real life and my wildly kinky desires.

I'm here to share my fiction and have interesting conversations about the kink. I love to receive feedback, story suggestions, and thoughtful platonic messages about this endlessly fascinating thing of ours. DMs and anon asks are welcome; you can find my responses to asks at #ask extrastout. Minors DNI.

I'm a lifelong feedist who's been active in the community in the past. I'm taken by a partner who's fat but not a feedist, and this Tumblr is a outlet for this part of myself. Cishet male, but I follow inspirational bellies of all genders.

Index of stories below the cut. I write in a variety of genres and themes from wholesome to extreme, so please read the content warnings.

Stories

A Cat's-Eye View - A cat watches his human owner slowly give in to her desire to become fatter. (XWG, BBW to USSBBW, non-explicit, light romance. CW: Description of furniture breakage.)

Buffet Date - When fatphobic tourists with a dark secret interrupt a lovely dinner date, an SSBHM defends his lover from both social and supernatural hostility. Part three of the series that began with "Werewolf / Sweater Weather" and continued with "Full Moon." (SSBBW, SSBHM werewolf, buffet stuffing, romantic but no explicit sex. CW: Exhibitionism, protagonist is victim of fatphobia, werewolf-on-vampire violence.)

Contrast / Gift - A hedonistic fat queen receives a package with a very special gift. (USSBBW, fit male FA. CW: Explicit sex and cunnilingus.)

First Date / Creepy Cookies - When a BHM in Florida decides to take the plunge on a long-distance relationship with a witchy SSBBW FFA in New England, their first IRL encounter goes even better than he expected. (BHM to USSBHM, magical rapid weight gain, SSBBW feeder. Romantic, but spicy and mildly explicit. Lots of sexy descriptions of food. CW: Immobility, mobility aids.)

Full Moon - The couple from Kinktober 2023's "Werewolf / Sweater Weather" enjoys some bedroom fun on their favorite night of the month. (SSBBW, SSBHWW -- that's "big handsome werewolf." CW: The fine line between desire and fear; explicit sex, but mostly implied rather than descriptive.)

Immobile Weekend - When a feedee agrees to try a weekend of bedroom roleplay, he enjoys it even more than he expected. (BBW feeder, BHM to USSBHM feedee, XWG, romantic vibe, spicy but no explicit sex. CW: Immobility, mild discussion of health issues.)

Leashed / Hologram - In a near future where remote communications technology is just a little bit more sophisticated, you're a greedy fat pet with a stern but loving master. (Second-person feedee POV, gender-unspecified feedee and feeder, size-unspecified feeder. Mildly explicit with implied sexual intercourse. CW: Pet play, dominance.)

Marshmallow / Bondage - A fat dominant feeder and her even fatter submissive enjoy a night of bedroom fun. (SSBBW, USSBHM, femdom/mommy domme, orgasm denial, food play, light impact play. CW: D/S with roleplayed dubcon, immobility, bariatric equipment, cunnilingus and orgasm.)

Special Delivery - As a growing gainer's mobility diminishes, his regular delivery order takes an unexpected turn. (SSBHM to USSBHM feedee, gender-unspecified fat feeder, no explicit sex. CW: Immobility, bariatric tube feeding, brief moment of dubious consent.)

Stuck At Work - When two fat fast food workers end up in a tight situation, they discover that their feelings for one another are mutual. (Romantic soft feedist meet-cute, nothing explicit.)

The Weight Clinic - A fat man who's unsure about losing weight signs up for a very unusual treatment program led by a dominant doctor with an agenda of her own. (SSBHM feedee, SSBBW feeder, implicit XWG. CW: Dubious consent, drugs, medical and deathfeedist elements.)

The Weight Clinic: The (Brief) Return of Dr. Moore - Everyone's favorite mad scientist returns to introduce Feedist Kinktober '23. (Second person feedee POV, gender neutral. CW: Immobility, bariatric equipment, self-indulgent metafiction, threats of a terrible fate if you don't reblog my stories.)

Werewolf / Sweater Weather - On a secluded rural homestead, a man brings a meal home for his mate. (BHM, SSBBW, wholesome romance, non-explicit. CW: Wolf-on-stag violence.)

Short Vignettes

I post a lot of short vignettes, but I usually don't bother giving them titles or full descriptions. They can be read on the #feedist vignettes tag. I haven't put content warnings in the header of these short ones, but they're generally not too extreme. If you see something on this tag that you don't want to see and would like me to put a content warning in the tags, just shoot me a DM.

For my own reference, I've made a list of some of my more popular short vignettes indexed by title or first sentence, but check the tag because this isn't all of them.

"The Beach" (BHM, SSBBW, non-explicit)

"Fat tradwife of an equally fat husband" (What it says in the title)

"I can't believe I did it again" (First-person feedee POV)

"I can't believe I've done this to myself" (First-person feedee POV)

"It's not just about getting turned on by gaining weight" (Second-person feedee POV, wholesome feedism)

"Most people don't get turned on by food" (Second-person feedee POV)

"Needy, Greedy" (Soft domme, second-person feedee POV, mildly explicit, gender-neutral)

"Not Fat Enough" (BBW feedee, dominant USSBHM feeder, stuffing. CW: Consensual power exchange.)

"Plump Little Tummy" (First-person feedee POV. CW: Immobility.)

"Reblog if you're into soft XWG" (My most popular post)

"She gazes up at her reflection in the ceiling mirror" (USSBBW, breeding kink)

"That Little Bit Fatter" (Second person feedee POV, wholesome feedism, SFW.)

"When the outside world sees you, they don't see self-discipline" (Second person feedee POV)

"You didn't expect all the fun you could have with your fatter belly" (Second person POV)

"You never thought you would go this far" (Second person feedee POV)

"You used to stay fit for contrast's sake" (Second person POV, mutual gaining)

[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!”

[lilcowzia]

There seems to be alot of humiliation and shaming in this community. As a fat person, and lover of BBWs, SSBBWS and USBBWs, I see too much of that out on the streets. I could never call someone so beautiful, a barnyard animal, or to shame them for living life to the fullest and loving who they are. I want to praise, love, spoil, and worship, not tear down and be mean. What are your opinions on this?

its complicated! to my ears, humiliation from those who i know love me, sounds like a confession of tender feelings. when he calls me pathetic, i hear a silent (sometimes not silent too) "and i love you for it" and it means a lot to me im ngl. if he calls me a pig, its not to discourage me from eating, its to spur me on to eat more, bc he knows it makes me tingle and drool. yanno what i mean? in kink, people usually say things like this for pleasure, of both ppl involved. there are definitely a lot of ppl who sling humiliation at strangers inappropriately, but i would say that is a case of ppl not respecting boundaries which likely is a problem with that person in all their sexual interactions, i dont think its kink specific to be an ass. but! it makes total sense to be uncomfortable with humiliation content, i dont blame you, the emotional strings it can pull are why its taboo and exciting for some. my opinion is just that i think its okay for you to not be into it, to be made uncomfortable by it, and its also okay for ppl to take pleasure in it, maybe even find some healing in it

[bbw-booty-sniffer]

*** I HAVE A QUESTION FOR ALL MY BBW/SSBBW LOVERS🚨🚨

WHEN YOU SEE A BIG OLDER SSBBW IN PERSON, HOW DO YOU APPROACH THEM? HOW DO YOU GET IN THEM CHEEKS???

[extra-stout-stories]

Buffet Date

When fatphobic tourists with a dark secret interrupt a lovely dinner date, an SSBHM defends his lover from both social and supernatural hostility. Part three of the series that began with Werewolf / Sweater Weather and continued with Full Moon. (SSBBW, SSBHM werewolf, buffet stuffing, romantic but no explicit sex. CW: Exhibitionism, protagonist is victim of fatphobia, werewolf-on-vampire violence.)

The stories that I enjoy writing the most are the ones that come to me in a single flash of inspiration. When I saw the "Bulging Bimbo" prompt for day 30 of Feedist Kinktober 2024, I immediately imagined the SSBBW from "Werewolf / Sweater Weather" getting dressed up in a skimpy outfit for a buffet date with her werewolf lover, who has to defend her from fatphobic vampires. Obviously.

I decided not to use "Bulging Bimbo" as the title, but this is canonically a Kinktober story. Writing about this couple is a lot of fun.

If you'd like to inspire me with a story suggestion, anon asks are always open. I can't promise a response, because not every prompt gives me that telltale flash of inspiration, but a lot of my most popular stories originate with asks that did, so get in my inbox and see what happens. 😈

CW: This story contains descriptions of the protagonist being subjected to fatphobic taunts, so please don't read to the end if this theme will upset you. However, the first half works as a cute and non-explicit buffet stuffing story with some exploration of the relationship between shame and kink. If that's what you're in the mood to read, stop before the section break with the paragraph that ends "heat rising on top of heat."

And remember, reblog (don't just like) if you enjoy it.

--

"Careful tonight. If you get much fatter, I'll have to drive you home in the bed of the truck."

"That a challenge?" She grinned, her hand on his belly, feeling it shift and jiggle as he steered the car into the parking lot of the buffet. "You know I can turn the tables, right? If I get you going you'll eat so much that you won't be able to walk back to the truck. And then I'll have you at my mercy."

"Right there in the buffet?" He laughed and put the truck into park, then turned towards her for a kiss, their bellies touching as they spilled over the center console. "You're an exhibitionist, but you're not that much of an exhibitionist. How about a compromise? We'll take turns. You get us a tray, then I get us a tray."

"Only one tray for each of us? I'll starve!" She stuck her tongue out playfully and darted in for a second kiss. "You have to say, 'then you get us another tray, then I get us another…'"

"Okay, okay. Infinite trays for each of us. Just be sure to load my plate up with mashed potatoes when it's your turn."

"It's a date." Grunting, she slowly lowered herself out of the truck, taking a deep breath as she steadied herself. Fortunately, he had gotten a parking spot not far from the entrance. As she walked around the front of the truck, he slipped his hand into hers and she leaned against him, feeling the softness of her exposed belly brush against his jeans.

Apart from her shoes and undergarments, the only things she wore were a pair of Daisy Duke shorts and a white blouse tied up at the waist to expose the hang of her belly. All of her belly was on display, a great slab of rolling softness swaying back and forth as she moved slowly towards the door of the buffet, feeling his grip release as he ran a palm up her back rolls and drew her in even closer with a powerful arm around her pillowy shoulders. She sighed with contentment and felt a little shudder of excitement pass through her.

They didn't come in to town often. Once or twice a week to shop for essentials, and he usually handled that; she had plenty to do around the homestead, and plenty of home-cooked snacks to eat when her chores were done. The town had grown since she moved in with him, and she could tell that he didn't like watching several acres of "his" forest disappear underneath a strip of big box stores; sometimes it left him feeling melancholy and she'd soothe him with a kitchen table full of her baking, followed by a long back and belly rub and ending in sex.

But he understood that the world was changing, and the progress that had come to his little corner of the wilderness had some advantages.

Like the buffet. There were several national fast food chains on the strip, but the buffet was local, owned by an old friend he'd known for years who had spotted a business opportunity when they first widened the artery road to make room for new development. It was a running gag that when the two of them walked in the owner would give an exaggerated sigh, tug mournfully on his beard and look at them with pleading eyes: "Please, don't let today be the day you two put me out of business. My cooks can only make so much at a time."

Then he'd break out in a grin and lead them to their favorite table, pulling out two chairs for each of them and winking as he walked back to the register. "Eat up tonight."

"You know we will." He smiled at the departing owner, then hefted himself back up from the chairs for the first trip to the buffet table.

By tradition, he filled the first plates for both of them. Like a boulder covered in dough, she thought to herself as she watched him move, almost as wide as he was tall, taking up space both vertically and horizontally. His upper arms quivered in the sleeveless leather motorcycle vest, a hint of belly peeking out from the t-shirt he wore underneath. It took him a few minutes to fill two plates up with a sample of everything on the buffet menu. It was an eclectic selection of dishes from a dozen different cuisines: roast beef and popcorn chicken, lo mein and baked ziti, crab rangoons and fried wontons, not to mention a half-dozen different cakes and pies on the dessert table.

And the mashed potatoes, of course. The house specialty. Soaking with butter, fragrant with rosemary, pungent with fresh-picked garlic that the owner grew himself on a plot just outside of town.

He seated himself on the chairs and she watched his belly put just a little more pressure on the vest as his t-shirt rolled up just another half-inch. He grinned. "Dig in."

The first round of plates went down easily for both of them, and so did the second. They had big appetites. She loved to cook for him, but she also loved the feeling of eating in his presence when they went out together in public. He could keep pace with her effortlessly, bite for bite, and this made her feel less self-conscious about her own appetite and her own size. Of course we're fat when we eat like this, a comforting voice in her mind seemed to say at those moments, and that's okay. I don't need to worry about being skinny to feel attractive. He thinks I'm hot -- and he's the hottest guy alive.

Sometimes in those moments she'd catch his eye and know he was thinking the same thing. The hunger on his face was for her as much as it was for food. His eyes would trace the softness of her belly as it quivered exposed in her lap. They'd lock in on the way her arms quivered as she lifted another forkful to her lips. Hungry eyes. Hunter's eyes.

He was looking at her now as she took a bite of crab rangoon. He smiled, his fat cheeks dimpling. She smiled back. She felt a warmth begin to spread beneath her belly.

Of all the feedist fantasies they shared, exhibitionism had been the hardest for her to open up to. She had tried it on her own a few times, long before she met him, long before they moved in together to the homestead at the edge of the world. But her arousal then had been at war with her discomfort, eating alone at a restaurant table, knowing that hostile eyes were on her. The shame was hot -- I'm a fat girl going back for seconds, she'd think to herself, and thirds and fourths, and she'd feel that mounting excitement at the recognition that each bite was going to make her even fatter -- but it was also painful. Lonely. She loved the way her body looked, but only in secret, and the world had a thousand ways to make clear that it didn't share her judgment.

And she'd never have dared to eat like this with her belly out. Not before she met him.

But in his presence she felt safe to do it. Safe in the presence of a fellow fat person, another supersized glutton who knew what it was like to face the pressures of a hostile world. Safe in the presence of a man who shared her appetites. Safe, too, because she knew he could be ferocious.

On a night like this, with the moon just a tiny sliver in the summer sky, she could barely see it. If she hadn't been his lover, hadn't known it so well, she wouldn't have seen it at all. When the moon hid itself, this side of him hid itself too. But it was there. An occasional gleam in his eye, a savagery in the set of his teeth as he tore greedily into a bite of meat. A strength and a hunger more than human, showing themselves in the subtle motion of the powerful muscles beneath his swelling rolls of fat.

Wolf blood.

Tonight, though, he was almost all human, her cheerful partner and adoring lover. He gave her belly a playful squeeze as she slid past him for her third turn loading up plates as the buffet, and she smiled and blushed.

By the time he went back for his fifth round of plates, their eating was as much about foreplay as nourishment. Their breath was growing shallower and more ragged, their movements slower. She watched his t-shirt slide higher up his belly, watched the buttons of his vest strain even further. She felt her own belly, full and heavy, and reached a hand to rub it, half for relief, half to seduce him. His eyes watched her fat fingers as they slid across her pale, doughy flesh. His lips pulled back slightly in excitement. Sex in public was a step too far for both of them, but she could feel him mentally undressing her. Just like hers, his arousal had been building as their bellies filled, heat rising on top of heat.

Then she heard something that turned her heat to a chill.

--

"Holy shit, look at them."

It was a voice with a nasal sneer, coming from somewhere behind her. It was followed by another voice, a smarmy snicker. "Oh my god."

He heard it too. She could see his face harden suddenly, his eyes narrow. She willed herself not to turn around. Her face was red now, but red with shame. Even here…

"I thought we were going camping, not whale watching." A third voice, this one female. A round of laughter.

She watched his face harden further.

"Look how many trays they have! They've been at this all day!" The first voice again. "Well, at least we know this buffet has plenty of pork."

She was trembling with embarrassment. He reached a hand out and took her wrist, his powerful grip gentle, soothing her. She felt relief then, the relief of his calm, steady presence. He didn't look embarrassed.

"They're making fun of us."

He nodded. "They are." The smile was gone from his face. "They're making fun of us. And it's not just that."

Slowly, her lower lip still trembling, she turned to cast a glance back at the trio of diners at the table behind her. Tourists. All three of them impossibly pale, impossibly stylish, impossibly gaunt. Not intending to, she caught the eye of the woman -- a cold, judgmental eye in a pale, angular face like sheets of jagged marble.

The woman sneered at her. She felt his grip tighten on her wrist.

"They shouldn't be here. And they shouldn't be looking at you like that."

He had the hunter's eyes now, gold and gleaming, some sort of ancestral instinct drawing power down into him. She could almost see it, as if the sliver of moon outside the window were casting a beam of silver light directly into his chest, filling him, strengthening him. His grip tightened again, barely, imperceptibly. Then he let go.

"They smell wrong."

He stood up from the table.

His breath was slow and heavy. His belly was full, she knew. He could move fast when the change took him, but his belly was still full. He moved slowly towards the trio of tourists, and for the first time she could detect a hint of fear in their faces.

"What did you just say about us?"

The taller of the two men had a pallid, funereal face. His voice was arrogant. "We're just taking in the sights. I didn't think there were hippos this far north. Or are you some kind of bear?"

His companions laughed, but she could hear nervousness behind the laughter as her lover continued to move slowly towards them, steadily looming larger over their table.

The second of the men was just as pale as his companions. He wore his hair in a quiff and was wearing sunglasses indoors. He put up his hands. "W-we… we didn't mean it. We don't want any trouble." She could see the woman beginning to inch her chair back.

"Trouble?" Her lover's voice was a low growl. "You're already in trouble. What are you doing here?"

"C-camping…" the shorter of the two men stammered out nervously, but his companion cut in, his voice still nasal and arrogant, a smirk on his face. "Hunting. I'm told the hunting is good here. We're going for a hunt in your lovely little town." His smirk widened.

Suddenly the man was looking directly at her, eyes locked with hers as his smirk drew back into a grin.

There were fangs behind his lips.

"I'm hungry tonight. Perhaps I'll hunt some pork."

Before she could even blush, her lover lunged across the table, hundreds of pounds of bulk in impossibly swift motion. The table crashed to the floor and the three tourists were on their feet, moving faster than she ever thought possible. The woman became a bat. The shorter man became a blur of red mist. But the taller man drew a long knife from underneath his jacket and grinned even wider. "Yes, I'm very hungry tonight. Pork, make it rare. Boar, too. I'll have you both for dinner. And unlike you two pigs, I won't gain a pound." His arms were long, lean, gaunt as he began to bob and weave with the knife, advancing on her lover.

But he leapt back, dodging the knife, keeping his distance as he backed towards the buffet table. He's really full, she thought to herself. Even if he changes he won't move fast.

The rest of the diners were on their feet now, some sprinting for the door, others backed against the wall. All eyes were on the enormously fat man at the buffet table and the unbearably gaunt man with the knife, coiled to strike, advancing towards him.

He leapt, like a blur of white marble holding a blade.

There was a crash, metal on metal.

The knife slipped from the gaunt man's grasp as it hit the bottom of the steam tray that her lover held like a shield in his two hands. Then he gave a swift kick and the gaunt man dropped.

The steam tray was already mostly empty, its contents spilled all over the gaunt man writhing on the floor. Fresh mashed potatoes, steaming hot.

Soaking with butter.

Fragrant with rosemary.

Pungent with fresh-picked garlic.

The whole room seemed to smell of garlic as the gaunt man snarled, his elegance and beauty gone now, just a pale, knobby, wretched creature with nothing but malevolence on his face. Vampire. Blood-sucker. Nosferatu.

"Get out." Her lover's bulk heaved with fury as he loomed over the vampire. "Get out now."

"You heard the man." There was the sound of a shotgun being racked. It was the owner of the buffet, standing in the door of the kitchen. "There's silver buckshot in these shells. Get the hell out of my restaurant and never come back."

Slowly, cravenly, the vampire stood. A slight glamour began to return to his face, making him handsome again in his gaunt, lean way, but there was fear in his eyes now, and he backed away. A bat fluttered by his shoulder and became a woman. A red mist solidified to become a man.

"Let's go. Come on. You were right, this town isn't good hunting." They seemed to creep out the door. A moment later, an engine started and a car sped away.

With her practiced eye, she could see the change receding from her lover. He was human again.

The owner lowered his shotgun. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just a little shook up. Hard to move fast on a full belly."

"I should have known they were vampires when they walked in. I'm not as sharp as I used to be."

Her lover grinned at his friend. "That's because you traded your spellbooks for cookbooks. And checkbooks. Hard to keep up with the supernatural when it's hard enough keeping up with inflation."

The owner relaxed. "Guess so. Thanks for driving them out. This meal's on me."

"Thanks. I think I just worked up an appetite." He smiled. "But I spilled the mashed potatoes. Could you make another batch? And some fresh coffee, too."

"You got it." The owner sighed. "When the cops come, I'll tell them it was drunk tourists making trouble. No one got hurt. And at least they won't show up on anyone's camera."

As the owner left for the kitchen and the other diners began to filter back in, he stood behind her chair and put his arms on her, massaging her shoulders and neck as she slowly relaxed. "You okay, sweetheart? I'm sorry about what they said."

She smiled up at him. "Just a little shook up. But I knew I was safe with you."

"Good." He leaned down for a kiss. "You look hungry. What should I get you while we wait for the mashed potatoes?"

"Dessert." She slipped a hand behind his neck and pulled his face closer. "And after we shut down this buffet… dessert."

"Okay, but I don't think I can wait until we get home. Let's park in the woods and you can start by giving me a belly rub in the bed of the truck."

She smiled. "Sounds perfect. But you'd better take that coffee black. I'm going to keep you up all night."

[panthermafia]

Just wondering where are all my BBW SSBBW lovers just want to know

[aquarium22raider]

What a time to be a SSBBW Lover and a BHM myself, Walking around walmart with my big belly sticking out watching everyone else fat as can be, waddling around today! Truly amazing!

[dolewhiponfeabie]

Every ssbbw is a teacher. A teacher of her heart, a teacher of her mind. She will teach you how to love her, how to please her, the rolls on her body are her lesson plan, the stretch marks on her belly are her text book. Every ssbbw is a teacher, her lovers are her students, and gaining access to her MIND is your diploma. 

[extra-stout-stories]

Full Moon

The couple from last year's Werewolf / Sweater Weather enjoys some bedroom fun on their favorite night of the month. (SSBBW, SSBHWW -- that's "big handsome werewolf." CW: The fine line between desire and fear; explicit sex, but mostly implied rather than descriptive.)

Here's my belated contribution to Day 10 of Feedist Kinktober '24. This one is a few weeks late, but as soon as I saw the "Full Moon" prompt I knew what was going to happen.

As long as @fatguarddog keeps giving us an annual list of Kinktober prompts, this fictional couple will keep making appearances. I might bring them back before the month is over, if I have the time to write.

Monsterfucking isn't a kink of mine, but using a monster character to think about some of the primordial forces that inspire our kink was an illuminating exercise. This one was a lot of fun to write. Reblog if you enjoy it.

--

He gets hungry when the change hits. Hungry for her cooking. Hungry for her.

Sometimes, on these nights, he'll leave the house to hunt. But sometimes, when the snow is piled up in meter-high drifts, he stays indoors.

She knows what to do then. For a few days beforehand, she'll cook and cook and bake and bake until every surface in the kitchen is covered with food. Meats, lots of them, beef and mutton and venison, roasted and grilled and fried, stewed and sizzled. Always rare, always tender and dripping.

Bread, loaves and loaves of it. Cakes. Cupcakes. Puddings.

The kitchen is right next to the bedroom, and she can hear him moving around, ravenous, devouring.

When the change hits his appetites seem even more bottomless than they already are.

--

She feels vulnerable then, in a way she rarely feels around him otherwise. He's as much beast as man when the moon is full, and sometimes he's more beast than man. When that happens she can see the struggle in his eyes, the struggle to hold both sides of himself in balance, to regard her as his lover as well as his prey. The beast is very different from the man, who is as unfailingly as tender as he is strong, unfailingly kind to her and others even when his strength would allow him to be cruel.

The beast is different. And she is so vulnerable.

She's just as fat as he is. Or maybe he's just as fat as her. They've made each other this fat.

But while his rolls of fat and quivering belly are layered on top of powerful muscle, hers are nothing but softness. It's not that she doesn't pull her weight. On an isolated homestead in the woods there are always chores to do, and not just the cooking. She stretches and even lifts light weights to stay mobile, mobile enough that she can get around the kitchen and the garden. But by the end of the day the effort has left her ready to beach herself in bed and eat and eat.

Like she's doing now. He's not the only one with a hunger. She lifts a forkful of blueberry pie to her lips. She can hear him in the kitchen, tearing through the beef stew and the chops and the pot roast. She can imagine the trails of grease dribbling down his chins, stubble and sweat, ferocity, appetite.

They've made each other this fat. If it were entirely up to him, if the duties of the real world didn't intrude, her fat would be nothing but an ocean of immobile softness. When the moon isn't full, when the change hasn't taken him, his lovemaking is kind, eager, attentive. Pampering. He loves to spoil her, to satisfy her. To see her grow and grow and grow, rolls folding over onto rolls, all for him.

Warm. Soft. Pampered. Endlessly inviting.

Tender. Easily winded.

Unable to run.

Prey.

--

She's made herself so vulnerable. There's a cold fear inside of her, dancing in circles with the heat of her excitement. She eats to still the fear and to stoke the excitement. I trust him, she tells herself. He can control the change. For me he can control the change.

Some people would think it was madness. To give up a career and a condominium and designer handbags to live in a cabin in the cold, dark forest, miles from the nearest town, hours from the nearest city. But she had known from the moment she first set eyes on him that she would do it if he asked.

He was so kind, so thoughtful. So fat and so hungry, for her cooking and for her.

He didn't ask her to move in with him until he had explained to her about the change.

And she still did it.

--

I've made myself so vulnerable, she thinks, shoveling the last of the blueberry pie past her lips, her own breath ragged with fullness. I'm not sure I could even get up from bed right now. The stuffing has pushed her over the edge; when she's this full, she feels as if she might lose her mobility entirely. The thought makes her burn with heat. The thought makes her freeze with fear.

So soft. So tender.

So appetizing.

--

When he crashes through the door, beast and man are one thing. His strength is supernatural now. It moves with the same rhythms of the full moon that move the tides, that pull great waves of force up from the depths of the ocean until entire coastlines, in places far away from their ice-cold forest, drown in a surge of water and heat.

She's drowning too. Her breathing, ragged with fullness, grows shallow with fear. Heat and moisture, sweat and desire, churn like the ocean around the cold knot of fear at the pit of her stomach as he crashes through the door, hunger in his eyes. His belly is swollen and taut underneath its softness, filled to the brim with the tender dishes she spent days preparing.

On another night she'd rub it gently, smile, run her fingers through the hair of his chest and nuzzle her face against his stubble until she felt the softness of his chins yielding to her kiss. On another night she might comfort him, tease him. Did my hungry boy eat too much?

But there's nothing boyish in him now. Not a boy and not a man, or not only a man. A man and a beast, two hungers at war with one another.

Looming over her.

--

"Can you really control the change?"

She had asked him that after seeing it happen for the first time. So frightening but so exciting, like something out of an old and terrible legend.

He nodded. "It's difficult but I can do it. It's like… I know I want you, but I have to remind myself why I want you. Does that make sense?"

She nodded. "I think so. It's scary to see you like that." She pulled him in closer, feeling the strength beneath his fat as he relaxed and let himself sink into her softness. "But it's also hot."

"I'm glad." He grinned and squeezed her. "A lot of girls would run away the first time they saw that."

She laughed, playfully shoving her belly against his. "Do I look like the kind of girl who runs?"

Now he laughed too. "Nope. You look like a girl who sits and eats. My kind of girl." He kissed her. "Don't worry. I can control the change. You're safe with me."

But she had been so much smaller then.

--

Beast and man are one thing now and his strength is supernatural. How many hundreds of her pounds does he shift with his sheer brute strength as he takes her and mounts her? He could throw me across the room if he really wanted to, she thinks. The thought is frightening. Exciting.

His belly spilling onto her back rolls, over the sides of her hips. His hands on her thighs, then her shoulders, then wrapping themselves in her hair, pulling her head back. His breath on her neck, ragged and fierce, a wordless growl.

Hunger.

Her heart is pounding. The beast has teeth, she thinks. He could tear my throat out. Tear me to shreads.

Then she cries out as he thrusts, a force beyond human penetrating deep inside her. Wet with sweat and excitement, her fat rolls shake and quiver, crash against him like tidal waves.

--

Half excitement, half terror. A night that seems to last forever. She wants it to end. She never wants it to end.

His grip growing stronger and stronger, his breath more and more of a growl. His thrusts more forceful. He takes her ferociously, as if he can barely control his desires, the appetites of the beast mixed with the urges of the man who knows every inch of her fat body by heart.

How much she trusted him. To come all this way. Miles from the nearest town, hours from the nearest city. To risk this danger.

To get so fat for him, so fat that she could never leave.

She screams. Half pleasure and half terror. His teeth are at her throat.

Maybe this will be their last night together. Maybe tonight the dam holding back his hunger will finally break and he'll lose the man entirely, lose the man and become the beast.

She screams again.

Can she trust him to control the change?

When she comes it's like wave after wave crashing across the coastline.

And when the sun rises, it's like the storm has passed and her languid body is the surface of the ocean grown placid.

--

The beast is gone from his face now, thin lines of sunlight giving a golden cast to his pleasantly fatigued smile. She reaches fat fingers for his face, strokes the softness of his chins beneath the stubble.

"Are you hungry, big boy?"

He laughs. "Yeah. I worked up an appetite. And I could use some coffee, too."

She grins. "I set the timer for five A.M. It should be ready by now. Put plenty of cream in mine."

He sticks out his tongue puckishly. "Plenty of cream." He grins back. "Got it. Big girl."

She can see satisfied exhaustion in the way he heaves himself up from the bed, rolls quivering beneath body hair, turning slowly towards the kitchen. "Breakfast's in the locked cabinet?"

"Yup. Just toast the waffles and pop the pancakes in the microwave. There's plenty of butter and maple syrup. I'll cook the bacon and sausages later."

He turns back and bends down to kiss her. "Breakfast in bed?"

She smiles. "Yeah. You wore me out. Once I'm full again I want to cuddle and nap."

"Sounds perfect." He squeezes her thigh and she watches appreciatively as he turns again, his naked body quivering as he moves.

He's all man now. The beast is elsewhere, somewhere beyond the tides.

But she can't wait until the next full moon.