#wg fic

[taeslovehandles]

[SNEAK PEEK]

With the release of the belt, the buttons on both Taehyung’s pants and his dress shirt popped off and began rolling down the stage. Out surged his belly, soft and gelatinous looking. I wonder what it would be like to touch it… Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from wondering.

On top of the main event sat two perky little tits, just starting to fill themselves with fat. Jungkook could remember just last night, lavishing attention on those previously flat and hard breasts, how small the nipples were. He wondered what they would taste like now that they’d ballooned like this?

The legs of Taehyung’s pants strained against the inflating flesh, seams struggling to hold it together. Jungkook swallowed hard as his gaze swept across his husband's previously tight yet round rump. It had blown up too, now a bit saggy, but wider nonetheless.

Third strike and he’s out. Jungkook was an ass man through and through. Shit, he thought, I’m totally into this aren’t I?

Whatever Taehyung seemed to have seen in his husband’s eyes, it was gone. How was he not reacting and telling Hoseok to stop? Why was Hoseok not letting him talk no matter how hard Taehyung struggled to tell him that he’d play the damn game!

“Mhmmnghhn!!”

The audience chanted “Grow! Grow! Grow!” Non-stop in the background while the only person that seemingly felt wronged here was no one else but Taehyung. Of course he had felt his buttons popping and he was beyond red in the face from embarrassment. This just had to be the worst dream he'd ever had the misery of being the main character in. This just couldn't be real! {to be continued...} ---------------- @pudgecuddles and myself are working hard behind the scenes to get this thing done. Here is another little sneak peek for those who are interested on reading it! A completely different and wild idea took us in a flash and here we are now. All I can say is, it is going to be so fucking hot! Get ur ass ready for this shit.

[allfattenedup]

Part of a wg story I found in my drafts:

· · ─────── · 🐷 · ─────── · ·

"If you'll let me, I'll make sure you never stop feeling like this," you whisper, suddenly tender, kneeling on the couch next to me, halfway to straddling.

"Like what?" I ask, voice rough with want as I look down. I've never been able to eat myself this big on my own. I've never even seen myself this big. My cheeks burn as I carefully feel the heavy sides of my new gut.

"On fire," you whisper, watching me explore what you've done to me. "Every nerve lit up.

"You're great, and this is..." My head falls back in pleasure against the back of the couch, hands pressed to either side of the belly that doesn't feel like mine. Heavy and full. So, so big. "..this is incredible. But if we keep doing this, I'm going to..." I bite my lip. The thought is hot. Too hot. Way way too hot, too dangerous. I can't let myself get swept away in it. "This was supposed to be a one-time thing," I protest half-heartedly.

"I know." You nod, sweetly massaging a roll, and I gasp, face crumpling in ecstasy. "And it can be... if you want it to." "No." The word comes out to my dismay, but I can't keep it in. This can't be the only time we do this. The thought of it slipping through my fingers makes my voice urgent. "No, please. Just... a little more."

"Okay," you coo, kissing down my cheek, my slightly soft jaw. "But you know that if you keep seeing me, you're going to get fat, right?" Your breath is so hot on my ear, and you nip at my earlobe. "You're going to get very... very fat."

My head spins. My belly throbs. I can't breathe. "...yes."

"Are you ready for that?"

I swallow, and decide to answer honestly. "I don't think so."

"But...?"

"But I don't care." The desperate need in my rough whisper alarms even me.

You lean forward and kiss my nose. We're so close, I can feel the heat of your body radiating into mine. "Thank you for being honest," you whisper, and your hand moves excruciatingly slowly from gently rubbing a roll, around to settle on the straining front of my belly, and you place your palm flat, slowly beginning to rub circles. "You don't have to worry. I'm taking care of you now. I'll make you nice and fat, and if you get embarrassed, I'll make you feel good. Okay?”

“Okay.” I gasp, arching up what little I can into your hand.

“And if you get nervous - about how fast you’re changing, or any of it - I’ll just push a nice treat past those lips and you’ll remember you’re my docile little fat pet. Won’t you?”

“Yes.” "We'll get you a nice heavy belly," you promise, sliding the rest of the way onto my lap, sharing it with the gut you've already started to put on me, and drag over the bag of chocolates. "Don't you worry."

[bigolbadblog]

You wake up still bloated. Still stuffed. There's no headache, no foul aftertaste that would indicate a night spent drinking, but your memories of last night are hazy anyways. Maybe because so many of your nights have been rather similar lately.

Last night was, what, takeout from that curry place down the road? Or maybe that was the night before. Maybe last night was soul food. You belch and wince. Whatever else it had been, you decide last night must have included ice cream. Lots of ice cream. Gingerly, you reach down (up) to rub the peak of your belly- swollen it may be, but that layer of softness that meets your hand isn't just bloating. Another belch. Ice cream and... tacos?

You hear light footsteps approach the bed, and blink blearily up at the love of your life. "Jesus fuck," you greet them with a whine, pulling the sheet aside to show them the expanse of your belly. "How much did you- ourrp- how much did you FEED me last night?"

"Good morning to you too, beautiful." They bend over to give you a kiss on the cheek. "And don't worry about that." They pat your belly, which- traitorously- growls with sudden, utterly irrational hunger. They smile. "Breakfast is almost ready."

[extra-stout-stories]

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.)

Written at the suggestion of a friend, here's a special delivery of XWG and immobility/bariatric kink. I've left the gender of the feeder unspecified so that gluttons of all persuasions can enjoy it. Eat up, and reblog if you like it!

--

He paused to lean on the doorframe of his apartment building, huffing and puffing, before swiping his key card to open the door.

The bus stop was only about 250 yards from the entrance to his apartment, but the walk was getting more and more difficult. By the time he made it out of his apartment, down the elevator and to the bus stop, he was red-faced and sweaty, wheezing and gasping, his gigantic belly rolling and wobbling as he struggled to squeeze himself into a seat.

Fortunately, there was a bench halfway between the bus stop and the building. More and more often, he found himself stopping there for a minute or two or three, pausing to catch his breath and harvest his energy for the rest of the trip.

This wouldn't even be an effort for most people, he thought to himself. But he didn't mind.

He enjoyed it, in fact. For years he had been getting fat on purpose, watching the numbers on the scale rise as his body grew softer and heavier. Other people would be shocked if they knew, but it even secretly turned him on to know that he was getting so fat that just walking to the bus stop was becoming a struggle.

Still, the effort could be a pain sometimes. Like right now. As he passed through the door of his apartment building and into the elevator, feeling his belly quiver against his thighs and leaning against the wall to take some of the pressure off of his knees and back, all he could think about was beaching himself on the couch until it was time to stand up and walk again.

That time wasn't too far off. He had already placed the order when he was riding home on the bus. But the walk from his couch to his apartment door was just twenty feet. And at the end of that walk there would be food.

--

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the buzzer rang. He took a deep breath, grunted, stuck his arms out for balance and began laboriously standing up from the couch, breathing heavily, pausing occasionally for an especially deep breath. The buzzer rang again. "I'm coming!" Slowly and ponderously, he waddled to the door.

He ordered from this particular fast food place all the time, but tonight there was a new delivery driver. He couldn't help noticing that they were substantially fat themselves, with thick thighs packed tightly into the pants of the driver's uniform, upper arms spilling like dough out of short sleeves, even a hint of belly peeking out from the bottom of the shirt. "Four burger meals, four milkshakes. Three chocolate lava cakes. And a two liter of Coke."

"That's me." He steadied himself on the wall by the door, then reached an arm out and took the bags, managing to slip both handles around his wrist and get a steady one-handed grip on the tray of milkshakes. "Thanks."

There was a smile on the driver's face as he shut the door.

--

It was getting harder and harder to reach the bus stop. He wasn't just pausing for a break on the bench any longer. Now he was stopping multiple times to lean himself against the building next to his, or on the fence that stretched the last few dozen feet from the bench to the bus stop. Then he had to climb into the bus, which was a struggle in itself, and hope that there would be a pair of side-by-side open seats at the front so that he wouldn't have to squeeze his belly in behind another pair of seats.

He found himself looking for excuses not to leave the apartment. It wasn't difficult to find them, since so many things could be done remotely now. And with the money he saved, he could afford to call a rideshare from an app instead of taking the bus. Pretty convenient.

The four burger meals were a part of his regular order rotation, and he found himself looking forward to visits from the fat delivery driver. He swapped out one of his pizza orders and started going for the burgers an additional night or two every week. Once he'd gotten in that habit, he bumped the number of burgers up to five, with an order or two of chicken wings for good measure.

As the driver handed him the last of his order, they smiled, their fat cheeks dimpling in a way he had come to recognize and appreciate. "I saw you trying to get the bus the other day."

He felt his face flush with embarrassment. "Yeah. Usually I take a rideshare, but the congestion pricing this weekend was really bad." He steadied himself on the doorframe and took a deep breath. "It's a pain in the ass trying to squeeze into those bus seats. I'm not exactly skinny."

The driver laughed. "You're a big boy. After all these burgers, who can blame you?" From someone else the words would have been hurtful, but they were said with obvious affection, and the driver was pretty fat themselves.

"Yeah, I guess I am." He grinned and patted his belly. "It's a lot of work hauling all this around. But I don't mind. I promise I'm not going to put you out of business by going on any diets."

Now it was the driver's turn to blush. "I'd miss seeing you. You're my favorite customer."

"Thanks." He hefted the bags of burgers and chicken, struggling to get a steady grip on the tray of milkshakes.

"Here, let me help you with that." The driver reached for the milkshakes, picked up the bag with the two-liter, and followed him into his apartment.

"Whew." He let out an exhausted sigh as he settled back down on the couch, feeling his quivering rolls slowly come to stillness as he sank into his favorite spot. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem." The driver was smiling again. "You know, you could put a bench there. To rest on when you're going to the door." They gestured at a spot between the living room and the bathroom door, where a bumpout for the hall closet made a natural alcove that was just deep enough to fit a bench.

"You know, that's a good idea." He grinned back at the driver. "I don't know what I would do without that bench at the bus stop."

"Or the fence. You must have been there a good five minutes before you got moving again."

He laughed. "Are you stalking me?"

"No! I was stuck in traffic. But I have to admit, I didn't mind the view. You're my favorite customer for a reason."

The driver's phone buzzed. "Shit! I have to get back on the road right now or my next delivery's gonna get cold. I'll see you soon."

As the driver hustled back to the door, he couldn't help admiring how their thick thighs and ass bounced and quivered in their snug uniform.

--

He took the driver up on their suggestion, and was glad he did. His burger binges, on top of all his other binges, were adding some serious weight to his body, and it was getting more and more difficult to walk. He had given up on the bus entirely. Making it downstairs to a rideshare was becoming an ordeal, even if it was pulled up right at the door of the apartment complex.

But he still didn't mind. With the bench in place, he could pause for a minute or two to catch his breath on the way to the door, and that made it not too difficult to order in. He had even put a mirror up on the wall opposite the bench so he could look at his flushed and panting face, the gigantic rolls of his thighs belly, and admire how fat he was getting. I'm so fat I can barely make it to the door, he would think to himself, and then all those hundreds on hundreds of pounds would quiver and shimmer as he shuddered with excitement.

Sometimes he'd spend so long in a reverie that the person delivering the food would get impatient, ring the doorbell again and again. That was when it wasn't his favorite driver, of course. They knew it would take him a while to answer the door. He found himself dropping the other restaurants out of his rotation, going deeper and deeper into the menu of what had become his favorite fast food place. And that driver always wore a smile.

One day they had another suggestion. "You know, it's not that expensive to get a remote door lock. You could open the door with a remote control, or with your phone." They smiled, fat cheeks dimpling, fat chins quivering. "That way I could bring the food straight to your couch."

"You'd do that for me?" He grinned. Their interactions were becoming more and more flirtatious lately. Sometimes he wondered if he should spill the beans and admit everything: that he was a gainer, that he had gotten this fat on purpose, that he looked forward to their delivery visits because he had a crush on them.

"Of course. Straight to your couch. Even straight to your bedroom, if you don't want to get up."

And sure enough, when he had the remote lock installed, they did.

--

It was a typical evening. He woke up from a nap to the bedroom beginning to darken as the sun began to set. He flipped on a light and pulled out his phone. Seven burger meals, six milkshakes, two family-size chicken platters… his mouth was already watering.

As usual, they came straight to his bedside, unloading the bags of food onto the bed right next to him so they would be in easy reach. But today they were rolling something in behind them as well, a large box on a handtruck.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's a special delivery." There was a look on their face he had never seen before. The dimpled smile was there, a little more mischievous than usual. But there was an intensity in their eyes now, too, a flush in their fat cheeks that was more than just exertion. "Something I've wanted to do to you for a long time."

"For a long…?" He paused, not sure how to continue. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the labored breath from each of them.

"Close your eyes." There was a sudden note of command in the driver's voice.

"Mmmmph!" Before he knew it, there was a hand on his face, roughly shoving. For a moment he felt like gagging as he felt something slip down his throat and something else shoved into his nostrils. He tried to speak, but with the tube in his throat, all he could manage was a grunt. But his meaning was clear. What the hell is going on?

The driver spoke rapidly, their voice husky and heavy. "I know. I know you're a gainer. I know you got this way on purpose. I could see it on your face. In your eyes. The way you looked at the food. The way you looked at me." They paused and took a deep breath. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing. When I'm not doing delivery for extra money, I'm a bariatric nurse. I have this all planned out."

They were in control now. "There's a lot of calories in this tube," they continued, swiftly and assuredly hooking it up to a canister of some sort and turning the valve. "Oil mixed with sugar. Pure calories. Going straight into your stomach. You're going to get fatter. A lot fatter. And quickly."

He thought for a moment about whether he should try to resist. But when he saw the look on the driver's face, he didn't want to.

It was a look of love.

And after all, he had always wanted to be fat.

--

His routine changed again. He no longer bothered leaving the apartment at all. No longer bothered leaving his bed at all. Just stayed in bed lounging or napping, calories flowing effortlessly down his throat. His body continued to swell. Every day, in the morning and in the evening, the driver would visit to clean him and to replenish the canister of formula. Then their fingers would trace across his body, their palms lifting his rolls, their lips and fingertips sending an electric charge through the tender hidden places in his rolls and folds. He grew and grew. Would he ever make it all the way to the bus stop again? Would he ever make it all the way to the door again? If he managed to make it to the door, would he fit though?

No, he wouldn't. He knew that. But he didn't care. He was growing bigger and bigger, fatter and fatter, softer and heavier.

And if he never left his bed again, he would still be happy.

[overstuffd]

thinking about all the amazing options feeders have to give their little piggies to drink

🥤sugar stuffed soda with plenty of carbonation to stretch your stomach to bursting point and then melt into a soft layer of blubber

🍺cold beer, lining your stomach with liquid carbs while making you light headed and easy to feed more salty treats to

🍦milkshakkeess extra thick gainer shakes with a slice of decadent cake blended in with with the icecream and heavy cream

☕coffee filled with cream and extra, extra syrup, topped with more cream and chocolate drizzle. an extra shot of espresso or two to get you craving more and more cups a day

🧃sugary juices i persuade you as a still-in-denial cutie are the healthy choice, plying you with thousands of calories of sugary sweetness on a hot day and agreeing whenyou say you have no idea why your pants are getting so tight

[tanuki-voice]

Your body is getting heavier to remind you to sit down. Relax more. Stress less. Enjoy yourself. It's hard to get up, so why do it? Feel how soft the couch is. Why would you leave its gentle embrace? Get some snacks. Turn something entertaining on the TV. Let your own weight press you into the couch. Have some more snacks. Feel yourself get heavier, gut spilling into your lap, and hips slowly filling out your plush seat, as you sink deeper into the cushions. So relaxed. So comfy. So well fed.

[dinahthemighty]

You're kneeling on the floor. Sweat drips down your face - from exertion, and from the heat in the room. Your boyfriend always keeps the temperature up when you play. It's mostly to keep you loose and relaxed, and to make sure you can be naked without freezing. He adjusts the ties that hold you up, arms over your head and your naked body on display. He runs the other hand down your front. It ghosts over your soft, fat tits, over the swell of your belly, to come to rest just above your hard cock. He pats you fondly and leans in to whisper into your ear.

“Arch your back a little.”

You obey and push your warm, heavy, overfed gut into his hand. He digs his fingers deep into the soft fat, fingertips prodding at the taut muscles underneath. You moan as his hand moves in little circles, massaging the ache away. He chuckles and gives the bulging roll under your navel a squeeze.

“My poor, greedy hog. So full. Does it feel good?"

“God… yeah...”

That’s all you can get out. You’re too stuffed to talk, belly stretched fit to bursting. You’ve spent the last hour tied to a kitchen chair while he force-fed you slowly but surely until your round gut rested on your thighs – tight as a drum, swollen and bloated with food. When he decided you were done, he eased you down and tied you up again, like this, to inspect and reward you.

I did an original thing :) read it on ao3!

[jawwtin]

Giving Feederism a "Try", by girlyhornywriter

Your boyfriend encourages you to indulge in his fantasies, and indulge your own appetite a little more. You're a little apprehensive, but, hey, why not? Where could it possibly end up leading to...? 🐖😈

Another one of those pieces where I immediately want to reach for my phone to record. @girlyhornywriter is an exceptional writer and you should all check out their work! (Also I have a new phone, so my mic is sounding significantly better, even after having to reduce this file to satisfy tumblr's size limits)

[growmydarling]

Growing Gal

Remi was never a bigger girl. In fact she was on the slender side...Until she met you. You, who were always pulling something sweet-smelling and warm out of the oven with a smile. Who never failed to have treats in your bag and who always asked to stop somewhere for a drink but inevitably alsp ordered appetizers for the table. Which Remi increasingly ate the lion's share of. Suddenly, it seemed, her tummy was resting more heavily in her lap. It sometimes peeked out from under what had never looked like crop tops until very recently. You sometimes slipped your fingers underneath its weight and lifted the weight gently, feeling it pool against you. She always blushed at this and would spend the rest of the day munching away on snacks. Almost as though the acknowledgement of what was happening to her body made her feel insatiable. And maybe it did. Why was it that the day Remi's friend snickered and told her she looked pregnant with your demon-spawn, she bought every pastry off the clearance rack and they seemed to disappear from the kitchen by the next day? Why did she seem so ravenous the week after an embarrassing trip to her doctor's office where she was chided for her sudden increase it pants size? You didn't know but it seemed to make your fingers ravenous to touch her swelling, softening body. You were both hungry for more.

[sugar-softies]

Well I wrote it, here's the post for context

Food was hard to come by in the nether. It had always been a dangerous place, but raids from the overworld and war with the withers had left it near barren.

When a cure was found for zombification, tourists from the nether may have gone a bit overboard when they discovered overworld restaurants and shops. The shopkeeps and restaurant owners saw record breaking sales with gold tips as well as the most stressful dinner rushes of their lives. Meanwhile, after the dust settled in town, portal managers saw record breaking waistlines trying to squeeze back into the nether, often having to push on plump piglin backsides to help them get through.

It almost caused a famine, but well rewarded people with riches and provided them with an answer to a problem not long down the road...

"So... you just want us to... clean?" Mangalica asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sort of, yeah." The nervous villager that had approached their small hunting party rubbed the back of his neck. "See, the thing is, we’ve had trouble with this new coven. They’ve been reshaping the environment using a magic no one really understands yet, and the more they change things the stronger they get- we just need someone to slow their progress at least while we figure out how to stop them.”

“I don’t get it.” Duroc, a young boar with a constantly flicking right ear, said. 

“It would be easier to show you,” the villager replied. “There’s a portal not far from here, if you’d just follow me.”

Mangalica was the leader, so the others looked to her for approval. Sensing a good payday or at least a chance to make nice with a nearby overworld settlement, she nodded and followed the villager.

As they stepped through the portal it became clear they weren’t above ground, but neither did it feel like a cave.

For starters it was brightly lit, and occasionally rainbows would shoot forth across the “sky” and illuminate the area beneath in a dozen hues. 

Mangalica took the first steps forward and gave a confused snort when her hooves brushed through something cold.

Snow? She guessed, but she was only half right.

“Welcome to the candy cavity,” the villager sighed, gesturing out over mountains of chocolate topped with ice cream snow and candy cane trees. 

“Candy?” Duroc’s jaw dropped. “It’s all candy?”

“Precisely.” The villager hid his hands in his sleeves as he folded his arms together. “We were hoping… well, not to be forward but… piglins eat, yes?”

“We sure do,” Tamworth, an older and larger boar with a chipped tusk, chuckled and picked up a handful of ice cream from the ground, giving it an experimental lick.

“We’ll pay you in gold blocks per chunk cleared of sweets.”

“How much gold?” Mangalica bent down to the villager’s height, causing him to sweat.

“I’m not authorized to negotiate that, but if you want to wait for the mayor-”

“Nope! We’re good!” Duroc gave a whoop of excitement before running and jumping off a cliff, doing a cannonball into a lake of grape soda. 

Mangalica snorted with amusement and patted the villager’s shoulder as she stepped around him. “Come check back in on us in… what do you sun-touched use? Days? Yeah. A few days.”

The villager watched the piglins as they set off and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was decided that they’d make quicker work of it if they split up, so Mangalica assigned everyone a quadrant and gave a stern warning to watch their pacing so as to avoid stomachaches.

“Not that there’s been a dessert yet a piglin can’t handle,” she said. “But something about this place is magic, don’t forget.”

Normally, everyone would have taken that warning very seriously, herself included, but… well…

It was all candy.

Duroc started off by the lake he’d first jumped into, and made merry work of breaking off lollipop reeds and sucking on them as he walked along the edge. When the sugar rush first started to hit he got a bit more eager, pulling up chocolate rock from the ground and munching away, before deciding to go for a swim. Some people might have worried about cramping but piglins were great eaters and swimmers despite there being no water in the nether. Besides, he didn’t really do much swimming.

What he did, was walk over to the sodafall and turn his snout upwards happily.

He guzzled from the sodafall, dunked his head and slurped from the lake, he drank soda until his head felt silly with sugar and then he waded back out of the lake with his stomach sloshing side to side. He groaned but smiled as the soda gurgled and popped inside him, and barely had time to lift a hoof to his mouth before belching. He was able to stifle the first, but the second took him so by surprise he found his head flying back as the burp erupted from his body, shaking the candy cane trees and sending a few cotton candy bats flying with alarm. 

“Oh god that’s so good.” He rubbed his belly and noticed idly the sweetish fish swimming in the lake he’d just left. 

A few more burps escaped his snout as he waddled back to the lake and tried to grab a few. It was ridiculously easy, it was as if these things either had no natural predators or simply didn’t care if they were eaten or not. He was shoving gummy fish into his mouth faster than he could catch his breath. 

“Nn… need… need a break…” he moaned after one last fish. 

He held his belly in his hooves as he wandered over to a candy cane tree, leaning against the trunk and sliding down into a seated position.

He meant to rest his belly, feeling a stomachache coming on, but glittering dust under the tree caught his eye. 

He lifted it with his hoof and gave it a lick, tasting mint. He couldn’t help but grab handfuls, greedily shoving them past his tusks. 

He soon realized his mistake as the mint hit the soda in his belly and began to fizz and bubble.

Once again, a burp shook the cave, reaching as far as Tamworth, who looked back over his shoulder with confusion before shrugging.

Tamworth was hiking up the nearby mountain, not yet beginning his feast. He was waiting for a good opportunity to begin, and honestly wasn’t really looking forward to the work of covering ground. 

A sudden giggle distracted him, and when he tried to find the source he eventually noticed a small gingerbread man no taller than his knee waving at him.

“Huh…” he smiled, tilting his head.

The gingerbread man beckoned him over and then started to run off. Tamworth, of course, followed.

He was surprised to find a whole gingerbread village, populated with more gingerbread people living in tiny homes decorated with icing and candy.

“Well, now I feel bad for eating it.” He broke a branch off a candy cane tree and sucked on it idly as the gingerbread people came to investigate him. 

Eventually, he noticed they were all trying to urge him in one direction, so he shrugged and let them guide him over to a throne built of marshmallow. 

He sank into it with a grateful sigh, his knees needing the rest.

He felt someone poke his arm and opened his eyes, seeing a gingerbread person holding a tray with an ice cream sundae on it. “Oh, why thank you.” he accepted it, lifting the sundae to his mouth like a drink and simply tossing it to the back of his throat.

The gingerbread people all oohed and aahed before nodding and running off. 

They came back one by one, each with some part of their candy environment which they offered to Tamworth.

“I like the hospitality here,” Tamworth chuckled.

As Tamworth dug into a feast for a king, Mangalica saw the rest of her sounder assigned to their positions. It took awhile for her to find her own station, and when she did she realized she wasn’t the only one looking to eat in that spot.

As she knelt by a stream and picked up a sweetish fish, a growl sounded from behind her. She turned to see a gummy bear just as big as she was, pawing the ground and baring its gelatin teeth. 

She smirked, reaching for her sword, but reconsidering. 

“Let’s go.” She instead got into a wrestling stance, meeting the bear with hooves and tusks as it charged at her.

She grappled with the beast, taking bites whenever she could. As she fought it became clear there was no killing this beast, only devouring it. It would keep attacking so long as it had a body to attack with.

She determinedly munched away, holding the bear in such a way as to avoid being slashed with somehow sharp jelly claws. Her stomach was strong but her stamina started to flag about halfway through, and she soon found herself on her back as she held the bear above herself.

She brought it closer and closer to her mouth, eating furiously until a sort of trance came over her, lifting only when she realized there was nothing left in her hooves.

She found herself laying there, covered in bits of gummy, her stomach distended and her belt snapped.

“Mm… that’s a good start, I’d say…” she rubbed her round belly, finding it taut to the touch with only the slightest give from the humble amount of pudge she’d started with.

And so it went on like that, each piglin finding a way to clear their assigned sector. Some suffered brain freezes from ice cream, others burped for hours after drinking up lakes of soda, but everyone pushed stalwartly on.

Duroc moaned, eyes rolling back as he stood under the sodafall- which was slowing to a trickle- his snout open and his stomach hanging down past his knees. No matter how careful and slow his movements were, it sloshed back and forth with each step and sent carbonation bubbling up his throat. He even burped in his sleep whenever he paused to take naps between gorging sessions.

Tamworth patted a gingerbread man on the head lazily and fondly as another gingerbread man climbed up his mountain of a belly to drop a platter of peanut brittle into his awaiting mouth. His jaw hurt from either hanging open or chewing, but the rest of his body had never felt more relaxed. He hadn’t moved in days, he hadn’t had to. The gingerbread villagers brought him food 24/7 and fed him even as he slept. 

Mangalica licked the end of a sword sized candy cane, further sharpening the point. The ground shook as a gum worm as long as fifteen ravagers standing in a line rose up from its burrow.

Her gut and breasts jiggled as she awaited it with an eager smirk. Her belly was growling, and so was the worm as it charged her. 

She was finding it much harder to move lately, her body weighed down constantly either with the weight she was packing on at an alarming rate, or just a belly stuffed full of sweets. Normally, she would have leapt up and plunged the sword into the beast’s head, but this time she lazily dropped to her knees and lifted the sword up, letting the worm impale itself as it leapt at her.

The beast fell dead to the ground, bleeding raspberry jam and jelly beans. 

She drooled as she lifted the gum worm’s head with both hooves and bit into it viciously.

The villager assigned to check in on the piglins gave them a week and a half, assuming they’d need plenty of time. He thought that when he came to check on them, they’d be maybe a quarter of the way done, so he was surprised when his feet hit deepslate instead of cake.

“Hello?” He lifted his torch, noticing remnants of dessert in the distance. Mostly it was the sundrops that had been left behind to keep the area lit, and it was by the light of the sundrops he found six piglins larger than… well, larger than any humanoid he’d ever seen.

Tamworth’s fat roll laden body was twice as big as the entire village by now, but still he kept his snout open as gingerbread men climbed up him step by squishy step to keep him fed, which was good because he could no longer stand under his own power to find food for himself.

Duroc was panting and gasping for breath, bracing himself against a cave wall as his belly dragged on the ground. He was trying so, so hard to bend down and lick up one last puddle of soda, but whenever his belly felt even a bit of pressure from bending over it caused a belch to stop him in his tracks, his eyes rolling back. One burp sent him backwards, falling onto his flabby ass, and he decided not to get back up after that.

Mangalica was finishing off another gum worm, slurping its tail down her throat with ease, a feat that would have been impossible when she first entered this cave. She’d grown to such a size eating the large sugary beasts of this land that she now stood four times as high as her sounderkin… or rather would have if she could stand. You couldn’t even see her hooves under the mass of jiggling fat she was constantly massaging with her hoof-hand- although her hoof only really reached as far as halfway down one of her breasts, and her arms were so fat she couldn’t bend or stretch them far enough to even attempt reaching lower.

“Well… I see this was a successful mission,” the villager said in awe. “Not to worry, we’ll ask another sounder to take over the next location, and have experts come here to help you shed all that weight.”

“What?” Mangalica panted. “No, no, just roll us over to the next one and we’ll take it from there.”

The rest of the piglins all cheered, and in unison paused their cheer as half of them struggled to catch their breath after the arduous exercise of lifting their fat arms and pudgy fists to the sky and the other half erupted into wall shaking burps that echoed all the way up to the surface.

[belliesgettingbigger]

Rodrigo is a merchant from a foreign land come to sell his exotic wares. He finds the most beautiful girl in the city and makes her his wife, letting her be the first to taste his amazing new invention: "chocolate".

His new wife Rosa gorges on the stuff, at first unaware of what it's doing to her physique, but soon she just can't stop. She craves it night and day, eating until she bursts from her groaning corsets, plush fat accumulating with every obsessed bite.

Of course, Rodrigo doesn't mind. In fact, he makes sure that Rosa always has more treats waiting, never missing an opportunity to shove more chocolate into her doughy hands. He plans to fatten her up until she can't move, then set her up permanently in his shop, gorging constantly, her expanding body a better advertisement for his delicious wares than money could ever buy.

[extra-stout-stories]

That Little Bit Fatter

April 2024: A realistic vignette from my old blog which I'm reposting here to centralize likes/reblogs and deactivate my defunct account. (Second person feedee POV, encouragement, SFW.)

You got that little bit fatter, and now your shirts don't fit.

You can still button them up -- barely. But they're snug on the curve of your fat belly, and they just barely leave enough slack for you to tuck them into your pants under your belly hang. (Your pants are getting tight, too.) Sit down at the right angle and you can feel the buttons strain, but even when they're not, you can feel that snugness, that tightness, like a little whisper in your ear as you go through the workday: you're getting fatter.

You've had a double chin for years. But you got that little bit fatter and now you really look fat, no matter what the angle. Sit down at the right angle and you can feel your face sink into it. It feels comfortable.

You got that little bit fatter and your moobs stuck out that little bit further. Under your arms they've even turned into side rolls that you can grab a handful of and jiggle. Good thing you got that little bit fatter and your belly grew too, just to keep them in perspective.

You've had a belly for years, too. You've always been chubby. But you got that little bit fatter and now your belly is a real slab of flab, rolling over your waistline in a proper hang. You can't keep your hands off it, can you? Without even realizing that you're doing it you sometimes find yourself idly hefting it, feeling how soft and thick it's gotten, tracing your fingertips along the warm, soft line where it folds over.

Yes, you've always been chubby. But you got that little bit fatter and now you're undeniably, unmistakably fat. You can see it in people's faces sometimes, a subtle difference in the way they react when you reach for another helping of food. They're not seeing someone who's "let themselves go a little"; they're seeing a fat person, a person who loves to eat, who eats more than they're supposed to and doesn't seem to care. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't awkward sometimes, but you like it, too. You always secretly liked being fat, secretly loved to eat, even secretly fantasized about growing bigger. But you got that little bit fatter and crossed the line into properly fat and not just chubby, and now your fatness feels somehow realer, truer. You got that little bit fatter and suddenly your identity felt more secure.

You got that little bit fatter and you started testing your limits. You used to feel embarrassed by how much you could eat in a sitting. Now it feels like a challenge, and you're hooked on the excitement. You got that little bit fatter and you started enjoying going out to eat and ordering that extra appetizer, that extra dessert, even that extra entree. You got that little bit fatter and it was like giving yourself permission to embrace the glutton you've always been.

You got that little bit fatter and you liked it.

But sometimes, standing there hefting your belly hang in the mirror or lying back in your armchair and breathing heavily as you digest another big meal, it feels like it's still not enough. You're not that big. It's not like you're so fat that you can't reach past your belly. It's not like you're so fat that you can't walk.

Maybe tomorrow you'll add another snack or two to what you've already been eating. Maybe when you're in the snack aisle you'll look at the calorie counts and go for the highest one you can find. Just for fun.

Maybe you'll get a little bit fatter.

[coweysworld]

i want my bottom half to be so fucking wide that i won’t be able to fit and walk through doors.

people to stare while my partner is on the other side shoving me to get me in.

as the whole ordeal is done..i’m out of breath and my partner just whispers praises and degrading words into my ears.

where are we going to cause all this trouble? a buffet of course!

[tanuki-voice]

Obsessed with the idea of becoming a feedee hucow.

Dating someone with sinister intentions, they plump me up meal after meal, making me bigger. But then also at the same time, they're trying to make me dumber as well. Thinking for me so I don't have to, giving me a life where I don't have to do anything, I get to sit back, relax, and let them pamper me. They might even give me a bit of weed to get me high, make me dull and docile.

With this perfect environment, and all the feedings, they start putting emphasis on me being theirs, being their pet. They squish me after a big meal, show how they have control of my new, bigger assets. It feels so good, but instead of moaning, they ask me to moo for them instead. I oblige them, and they reward me for every time I do it. My mind feels so empty. There's nothing but being their fat little cow.

From now on, they start training me, rewarding me for little pavlovian actions designed to restructure my brain; eating a huge surplus of calories, using as little words as possible, mooing, letting them pretend to milk my chest, however they feel. But it's all too nice to refuse. It's too perfect to resist. As I keep getting fatter and more docile, I enjoy it all more and more.

I can just imagine myself, in their bed, 200+ pounds heavier and still growing, brain empty, in some adorable little cow print lingerie outfit they've bought me. I might even produce milk. So cute. So dumb. So perfect. No thoughts, only the compulsion to obey, and to be their fat little cow.

[feedpartysubs]

I had a dream last night where I ordered a whole McDonald’s family meal for you. 6000 calories ready for your eager belly. The first Big Mac goes down easy with you inhaling fries and you’re dipping nuggets so fast that I can’t open sauces fast enough. Before you know it, you’ve devoured half the nuggets and the 2 cheeseburgers. You’re working on fries while letting your belly settle to finish off the rest of the nuggets and the last Big Mac.

As you eat salty fry after salty fry, I grab 2 gallons of ice cream from the freezer and let them sit on the counter to get soft. The irony of them getting soft while your round belly gets harder and harder with every bite, every calorie.

When I get back you’ve taken a break from savory to house a few of the apple pies. You’re breathing is shallow, you’re moaning in pain, but you want more. You’re begging for my hands to massage your swollen belly, but I whisper, only good piggies who finish their nuggets get belly rubs.

With a look of faux reluctance, you oink, “if I have to but I need a little help.l I wipe some sweet and sour sauce from your chins and you suck it from my finger as I dip a nugget into a nearly empty sauce cup. Your greedy mouth slowly devours it as I ready the next one for execution. By the time you’ve finished the rest, it is a graveyard of dipping cups and food containers. Thousands of calories have turned your belly into a tight drum milky white skin turned pink and reddish from the sheer amount of food you’ve inhaled. But we’re not done.

Before the last Big Mac gets cold, I hold it as you weakly take bite after bite. Sauce dripping all over your belly grown so big now it can be used as a table for me to set it down on while I kiss you in between bites. With my hands free I rub them down the sides of your belly, what once was soft and flabby has now turned into a diamond. Fitting because it is as precious as one.

Miraculously, you’ve finished the Big Mac. Not without a price, you’re covered in special sauce, sesame seeds, and lettuce, looking like a fat sloppy piggy. Lucky for you, that you’re only going to get messier. I go to grab the first gallon of ice cream. You beg me to stop. But there is no stopping. You asked to be massive. So fat you can barely waddle. So fat you make Adeline and Jackie look skinny. So fat that they can’t put you on reality TV because you’re too cartoonishly fat and what reality is it where a whale lives comfortably on land?

I tell you not to worry, this first gallon is to help with the last of the pies. As I open the melty ice cream, your eyes grow as wide as your stuffed gut. You wonder if you’ll explode. Terrified it might happen, but you can’t deny the idea of dunking those apple pies into the ice cream doesn’t make you even wetter.

Every bite is creamy with the filling warm and crust still flaky from being popped into the air fryer. It seemed impossible but the last 4 pies are gone. You are drunk off all the calories.

Every bite has made you dumb, wet, breathless, and yet wanting more.

I tell you to wait while I get something. You aimlessly dip errant fries into the remaining ice cream. You wonder what I’m getting but you know deep down. It is making you squirm, well, as much as your painfully full tummy lets you. It is like a weighted blanket pinning you to the couch.

You squeal like the good piggy you are when you see I’ve come back with the second gallon in one hand, and the other is your crown. I strap the funnel to your head. Your eyes glaze over as you prepare yourself to suck down every last drip of ice cream. Blue ribbon hogs don’t get them by not finishing their meal.

Every chug of ice cream pushes your belly to its limits. Limits you thought impossible, yet here you are becoming massive. Each second that passes you see your arms start to form rolls and hang lower, your chins turn to thirds then fourths any illusion of a neck or collar bone long gone, you don’t have cankles your legs just are fat from the thigh down to form rolls over your foot, your ass gets big enough to set a dinner for four on it, and your belly hangs so low that it covers whatever idea of a lap you had and down to your knees that are now swaddled in fat.

You explode into organismic ecstasy as I whisper, all gone. You want to be weighed to see what the damage is but you drift to sleep into a food coma. Even though you’ve eaten enough calories to last a week, you can’t help but wonder what snack I’ll bring you when you wake up.

[jawwtin]

Gainer Gamer Girl, by girlyhornywriter

@girlyhornywriter's fantastic approach to the classic feedism trope - the gamer girl oblivious to how much she is eating, and just how much she's growing too... 🍕🍕🍕