#wg fic

[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]

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.

[secretbigboylover]

Buffet Date

CW: Weight gain, rapid weight gain, teasing.

Trevor was trying to ignore how full his belly was and how good it felt. His big belly spilled over his lap and pushed his favorite button up shirt to its limit. It was a sky-blue shirt with yellow rubber duckies dotted all around it. His boyfriend, Max, had picked it out as a gift when they first moved in together. The same Max that confided in him that he liked his men chunky, the same Max that kept buying Trevor’s favorite snacks even though Trevor was on a diet. The same Max that innocently suggested a buffet for their date night.

Trevor knew he’d over eat, but couldn’t help himself and he was sure Max did too. The food just smelled amazing. There were so many options from pizza to pasta, stakes to hotdogs, every fried savory food he could think of, and the desserts were so mouthwatering. Trevor didn’t used to be a big guy, but boy did he have a big appetite. He had played football in high school and in college. Trevor had a wide build that made him the first pick on any team. He even had the good looks to make any man swoon or at least he used to. Now, thanks in part to dating Max, Trevor felt he had lost some of that. He was still broad and tried to be athletic, but had started developing a bit of a gut. Sure, some of his gym buddies when through bulking phases and got a bit chunky before getting ripped, but Trevor didn’t do any body building stuff. He liked to keep a lean muscle look. Now staring at an orb of a gut he groaned. He was so full and the food was so good. Rubbing his taught stomach only showed just how much of a pig he made of himself, but it also felt good. He didn’t want to admit it, but a part of Trevor really liked this feeling of being over stuffed. It was a good excuse to let Max dote on him while he just digested. He knew he should be more active, but Max always looked so happy when Trevor ate too much. Maybe it was time to give in? That though vanished when he looked down at the sad state of his favorite shirt.

The day he had gotten the shirt Max had taken him on a magical date to the winter fare. They had gone ice-skating, Trevor had tried to win Max a stuffed animal, they had hot chocolate, and road the Faris wheel. They had stopped by a little boutique before going home. It was filled with all kinds of crazy and goofy shirts. When Trevor saw the rubber ducky shirt he fell in love and he was over joyed when Max bought it for him. They took it home right away. Trevor was so swept up by how cute it was that he didn’t realize it was a size too big. Max had ensured him that he still looked cute in it and the bigger size only gave him room to grow.

Now diamonds of doughy flesh poked between the buttons. Trevor leaned back and stroke his belly. He couldn’t imagen taking another bite. He had already stuffed himself with four full plates. Trevor vowed this would be the last buffet date for the year. He would get back on his fitness grind and fit back into his favorite shirt. Once Max came back, he would tell him his master plan about getting his summer beach bod ready.

Max came back with three plates, one with a few slices of pizza, one with a slice of cheesecake, and the other stacked with two slices of strawberry cheesecake and warm brownies.

          “Sorry for the wait. I heard they were bringing out a fresh batch of brownies and I know how you love them.” Max said.

Trevor completely forgot about his aching belly the second he smelled the brownies. They were so rich. He could smell the semi-sweet chocolate and could almost taste it. His summer body forgotten he chowed down on the brownies. They were even better than he imagined. So dark and rich, with the perfect smooth fudge texture. They practically melted in his mouth. Trevor inhaled the last few and the cheesecake. Without a second thought he got up and raced towards the brownie station.

They had set out two massive sheets, still steaming. Like a child possessed, he quickly loaded his plate high with brownies. As he walked back to his table he had to peak over the mountain of brownies and had missed Max’s massive grin. Max was full on laughing by the time Trevor came back to the table.

“What, did I take too many?” Trevor said.

“No baby, your shirt.” Max said as he tried, and failed, to keep in his laughter.

Trevor looked down and saw two buttons in the middle of his shirt had popped off, his soft belly exposed to the air. He turned the deepest shade of crimson and hid behind his tower of brownies.

“Aw baby, no need to be embarrassed. I think you look very sexy with that soft belly.” Max said.

“Then why were you laughing?” Treavor said.

“Because I got an email that your new shirt had arrived.” Max said.

This did not quite answer Trevor’s confusion and Max recognized that and continued.

“I know how much you love that shirt and I know it has been fitting a little snug recently. So, I found out that store had a webpage and, on a whim, bought it the next size up. I’m just laughing because right as I got the email your buttons flew off.” Max said.

Trevor was still embarrassed but touched. He looked down at the plate and a had a wicked idea.

“Well let’s see if you can pop the rest of my button’s off.” Trevor said.

Now it was Max’s turn to be flustered.

“Wait what?” Max said.

Trevor wasn’t sure what came over him. He still wanted his lean summer bod, but loved seeming Max flustered and new this would do the trick.

“Yea, just feed me till I pop.” Trevor said as he pushed the plate of brownies towards Max.

Still flustered, but now definitely horny, Max picked up a brownie and popped it in Trevor’s mouth. Instantly Trevor was in heaven. The brownie was still as good, but the extra edge of having his sexy boyfriend feed them too him was doing wonders. Trevor knew in that moment his new shirt wouldn’t last very long.

[tanuki-voice]

Your body ballooned when you gave in to eating junk. There was nothing like the feeling of being stuffed, feeling the sugars and saturated fats crawling through your veins. You loved it, were given over to it, totally addicted. In the end, the thing that broke down your inhibitions wasn't their relentless advertising, or even the clever marketing. It was the coupons.

It began simply: you would come home from work tired and hungry, and order fast food. To expedite the process, you'd downloaded all the value apps for the places in your area. The promises of free stuff and quicker ordering was too good to pass up. However, you'd forgotten to turn off notifications.

Every so often, your phone would ding with a new deal, a temptation, a siren's call to get you to order in exchange for deep discounts. In the beginning, these were free fries, an upgrade to a larger soda, a cheaper sandwich. All the same, on those late nights, it sounded good. Why not treat yourself once in a while?

Of course, soon, "once in a while" turned into "every few days", then "every other day", until you found yourself becoming slowly dependent on the offers, a bit of elation from every little perk. The more you ordered, the more their algorithm could read you, serving you exactly what you desired, calling you each day at the proper time. As if trained, you would feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and your mouth would begin to water. It was time to order.

The algorithm, of course, was not entirely in tune with your identity. It was a being designed to generate profit. By ordering so much, so often, you had managed to convince it you were a large household, and it reacted accordingly. The deals changed to suit this belief, family size meals, multi-packs, pastries by the dozen. You ordered them all, gorging yourself without end to fuel your ravenous appetite.

What began as a dinner routine extended to other meals, and soon after that you'd even find yourself going through the drive-thru for a quick snack between meals. To live in such gluttony, messily pigging out without end, shoveling food into your mouth day after day, brought you such pleasure. You found yourself going back, again and again, every day, consumed by the desire for more. Tonight was no different.

Reclined into your sofa, you awoke from a potent carb nap. Your lunch, two large pizzas, half a dozen donuts, an order of chicken wings, and a 40oz soda, had truly taken it out of you. Your enormous belly strained your comfy pajama pants, barely covered by an extra large t-shirt. Your hands comfortably rested on its pillowy softness. Through the mountains of squishy fat, you felt it rumble. It was time for dinner. And right on schedule, your phone buzzed.

With potent glee you snatched it up. Today, if you ordered in the next hour, you could get a meal for four, burgers, onion rings and milkshakes. The kicker: order now and get two more burgers free. Your payment details had never danced across the screen faster, and thirty minutes later three greasy bags full of food were dropped off judgement-free at your door.

You brought them back to the sofa and began to chow down. It had become tradition for you to eat without a shirt on by now; your meals had long since become too indecent to go without dirtying your clothes. Your tummy bared to the world, you picked up a burger in one hand and a fistful of onion rings in the other, and devoured. Like an animal you ate primally, as if starved, not knowing when your next meal may come. There was no one to tell you you couldn't, only you demanding that you would. Each mouthful was calorie rich, and each was washed down with more food, more milkshake, more trash.

You spared one of your grease covered hands to rub your stretch mark covered stomach. As you teased gassy burps and wind breaks from your middle, it growled, pleased, yet still expectant. Rarely was it ever satisfied. No matter how much you stuffed into it, it wanted more. It commanded you to fill yourself, to bring yourself to the brink, feeling as if you would pop. Your appetite controlled you, but under its warm, pleasant, hazy influence, you were happy to be its willing pawn.

The joy of feeding took priority over anything else. You felt like you could eat forever. Your body would adapt to the gluttonous demon you had become, one whose mind lived in its stomach. To eat was so simple, so thoughtless, mindless. You just let your belly think for you as you ordered, and let it bring you to pleasurable, mind-clearing bliss. Your body, particularly your ample midsection, was a temple, a testament to the food gods you worshipped. You loved to see it grow, to see it flow over you, to see it bulge, swell and fill your chairs and mattresses.

A loud belch stirred you from your enraptured state for just a moment to see that you'd gone through a majority of your offerings. There was a slight sting as you realized your feeding was nearing its end. Suddenly, without thinking, your hand reached for your phone again. Your stomach rumbled. It wouldn't be satisfied with just this, but would you really go over that line? Ordering even more, without thinking? Was this who you had become?

A notification dinged. If you ordered in the next thirty minutes, you could get a dozen eclairs for half price. Your bloated belly purred. Maybe it was who you'd become, and maybe you weren't ashamed of it. You had been, at one point, but that reluctance had faded. This was who you were, an insatiably hungry animal given over to your muses, and you loved every second of it. Dessert wouldn't hurt. And perhaps, maybe, even a little after that. You smiled and confirmed your delivery. You had a long, gluttonous night ahead of you, and you were raring to get started.

[belliesgettingbigger]

I want to write a college story about a health-conscious jock who falls into glorious, gluttonous hedonism after being assigned a dorm with an aspiring pastry chef

Imagine it. He's never had a grain of sugar in his whole life, but one bite and he's overwhelmed, hooked forever. A monster has awakened inside him, and it demands sweets. He expands at a rapid rate as he can't stop himself from eating himself into a food coma every night. But the more he grows, the more his game suffers, until he is a wheezing, wobbly mess on the field. Even then, he can't bring himself to stop eating, can't stop himself from stuffing his gut full to bursting.

Of course, his roommate is always there for him, always ready with another plate of pastries to sate his endless hunger

[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... 🍕🍕🍕

[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.

[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!

[tanuki-voice]

At your desk one morning, your partner brings you a whole box of donuts, as a treat. You chuckle and thank them, you'll probably just have one or two, but you find them bringing one to your lips not long after they set the box down.

You open your mouth and they make you take a large bite. As you chew and swallow, they set themselves up next to you, hand under your chin to catch the crumbs as they bring the pastry back to your mouth. You take another bite. And another. You finish it, and shyly thank them, turning back around to finish your work, but they grab another, and hold it to your mouth expectantly.

You try to politely decline saying you'll get fat if you have too many.

"That's okay," they reply. "You should be."

As you sit there in a state of shock, they turn your chair around, and sit on your lap, straddling you. They grab your chin with their free hand, squeezing your cheeks.

"Open."

You open, and they stuff as much of the donut as they can inside. You chew and swallow, and after a few moments of respite the rest goes in. Then another donut. Then another. Your partner greedily stuffs the treats in your maw, growing more domineering with each one they feed you. They rub your belly eagerly, dusting sprinkles and crumbs off your chest.

Your resistance has faltered. It's taken so much energy just to keep eating all the carb dense pastries, and you can feel the sugar crash imminently arriving. As you pant heavily, putty in your partner's hands, they bring another donut to your lips.

"Open for me," they command.

You obediently bite off a large chunk. As you chew, they stroke your head, watching the energy fade from your eyes as a rush of insulin leaves you so tired, so docile and pliant.

"Such a good bean," they coo. "Just a few more to go."

You eat mindlessly, feeling the sugary treats glide down your throat, into your stomach. You feel so full, yet so peaceful. Your partner holds up the last donut, and you open wide as they stuff the entire thing in your mouth at once.

"You eat so well for me baby," they say in a sultry tone. "I'm going to love fattening you up." They stare hungrily into your eyes, and give your tummy a squeeze. With a peck on the forehead, they lean into your ear.

"You're gonna be so fucking big for me, I can't wait."

You moan a little. Your partner chuckles.

"I'm gonna start bringing you more snacks from now on, okay baby?" You nod, with the last of your energy. Full of sweet treats, you slip into a warm, fuzzy carb nap. The last thing you hear is your partner, wishing you well in a doting, sing-song tone.

"Sweet dreams."

And it's off to dreamland.

[belliesgettingbigger]

Is Patient 323 going to become immobile or blob?

Mrs. Woodhouse: That all depends on the patient herself. If Patient 323 is good and obedient, she may be allowed to return home while she can still walk. Indeed, I am proud to see my former patients waddling their way down the streets. How much better it is for a young girl to huff and wheeze instead of wasting her breath on backtalk or having opinions.

However, I have little hope for Patient 323. She is constantly whining, crying that she is "full". If she continues resisting, I will be forced to keep her under my care. For her own good.

[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)

[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!

[belliesgettingbigger]

Can I become a patient for Miss Woodhouse? how do I submit an application?

"I can't say I often have volunteers." Mrs. Woodhouse paced around the plump stranger in her foyer, looking down her sharp nose as she took in every detail. The pleading eyes atop round dimpled cheeks, the hands, shaking with - was it nerves or excitement? - and especially the abundance of soft, silken flesh pulling at their too-tight clothes.

A smile pulled at Mrs. Woodhouse's lips. "But I suppose we can spare a bed for an eager soul such as yourself."

[jawwtin]

Little Treat by shurbberylogistic

You deserve all the little treats, of course you do... but are you quite aware of how so many treats add up to some big growth? ;))

More weight gain audio fiction thanks to @shrubberylogistic's quality writing, be sure to check it out below!