fatty-feeder

[fatty-feeder]

Reblog if it's okay to fill your ask inbox up 😇😇😇😇

What do you want to know?

[fatty-feeder]

I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I stepped on a scale… at least three years ago. Back then, I was 125 pounds — lean, light, the kind of guy who could eat whatever without thinking about it.

This morning, though, curiosity got the better of me. I stepped on… and froze. 160.

Somewhere along the way, I’ve been filling out. Shirts hugging tighter around my middle, jeans needing a little more effort to button, a softer weight to my body I didn’t notice creeping in.

Last night might explain it. Went over to some friends’ place for a movie night. We ordered a medium pizza and a large one, figured everyone would share. Between the laughing, the movie, and a few drinks, I didn’t even notice I’d eaten the entire medium by myself… and at least half of the large.

When I woke up this morning, the leftovers were sitting there like a challenge. Cold, cheesy, irresistible. I finished them without a second thought.

Now I’m sitting here, remembering the number on that scale, feeling the way my belly pushes just a little more against my shirt… and wondering if maybe I like where this is going.

[fatty-feeder]

Hey there!

Figured it was about time I made a little post to introduce myself and what I’m into—both in and out of the fetish. Love to chat and share with like-minded folks.

I actually started out as a feeder, but somewhere along the way I discovered I really like gaining myself too. These days I’m way softer than I used to be, with no specific goal, just eating whatever I want, whenever I want.

Stuff I’m into:

- Weight gain

- Role reversal

- Teasing

- Force feeding

- Pretty much all that feedism goodness

Outside of feedism, I’m into:

Games, comics, anime, movies—all the nerdy stuff that keeps life fun. I’m also a big reader, mostly into sci-fi and fantasy (Dune is my all-time favorite).

Right now, I’m deep into Metaphor: ReFantazio (loving it), and I regularly hop on Marvel Rivals and Sea of Thieves.

Always happy to chat, whether it’s fetish-related or just regular conversation. My asks are always open, so don’t be shy!

[fatty-feeder]

Yesterday at lunch, me and a few friends wandered into this little donut shop. I told myself I’d be good, just one donut, a drink, nothing crazy.

But then I got to the counter. I ordered a triple chocolate donut and a lemonade, and the cashier, this cute girl with this sly little smirk, leaned in close, her voice low enough for only me to hear:

"I wouldn’t do that…"

Her eyes flicked over me, slow and deliberate, before she explained how badly that lemonade was made here, and that I should “probably” go with a soda instead. I don’t know why, but the way she said “probably” felt less like advice and more like… a command.

I agreed, ordered the soda, stepped aside. But as I waited, I could feel her glancing at me every few seconds.

Then she called me over again. She slid my bag into my hand, leaned forward so close I could smell the sugar on her fingers, and whispered:

"I added some more donuts for you…"

The way she smiled when she said it made my stomach flip. I peeked inside, and instead of my one donut, there were four.

I sat there with my friends and every bite felt like I was giving in to her. The triple chocolate was thick, messy, coating my lips and fingers, and I could still feel her eyes on me from behind the counter. My soda was almost gone before I’d even finished the second one, and my belly was already pushing gently against my jeans.

By the time I was licking the last bit of chocolate from my fingers, I swear she was smiling like she knew exactly what she’d done, like she wanted to see me softer, heavier, a little more stuffed than I’d planned to be when I walked in.

[fatty-feeder]

I'd literally melt hearing any of theses

love love love mock concern, ESPECIALLY when you’re clearly the one to blame for my growing waistline ~

- “you should really lay off of the treats, honey. you’re getting kind of chubby.” as you shove the last bite of a donut between my lips.

- “that’s a big portion baby. you know all that food is just gonna make you softer and rounder, yeah?” after you’ve placed the plate that you’ve piled high for me, on the table.

- “fuck, you’re a heavy girl, huh? since when did you get so big?” as you grope my hips and hanging belly after telling me to sit on your lap

- “jesus princess, might be time for a larger size again, you’re just spilling out of these things” as i try on the pants you picked out for me, knowing they were way too small.

- “wow angel, you’ve really fattened up over the holidays, haven’t you? maybe you should start thinking about that diet.” after you’ve stuffed me with another holiday meal fit for 5.

- “i think you should stop smoking so much weed sweetheart. it’s becoming very obvious that you can’t control your munchies.” as you pack my third bowl of the day

[fatty-feeder]

Just another bite.

That’s all it ever is. Just one more forkful, one more taste, one more excuse to keep going.

I tell myself I’m done, that I’m full, that this is the last one…

And then something warm, buttery, and too tempting to ignore ends up in my mouth again.

I chew slowly, belly groaning, skin tight… but god, it feels so good.

"Just another bite" has become my favorite lie.

The one I whisper while my waistband cuts deeper.

The one I moan through when I can’t even reach for the remote without my belly wobbling in protest.

I know how this ends.

With me stuffed past reason, breathless, heavy, needy.

But I can’t help it.

Just another bite.

And then another.

And then… well, you already know.

[fatty-feeder]

Reblog if you are a ;

•feedist (feedee/feeder)

•weight gain blog

•FFA

•FA

•fat positive blog

•anything feedism or fat related :)

I need more blogs to follow

[fatty-feeder]

Fit feeder who thinks she's better than all the fatties opening an app to get donations for fast food to show how she can be stuffed woth junk and stay thin.

Smash cut to her way too fat as she received enough money to eat herself into obesity and became a bashful mess.

[fatty-feeder]

Getting too fat to masturbate, and needing your partner to get you off 💜

[fatty-feeder]

A whole tray of cookies… gone. A big bag of chips? Crumbs all over my shirt. I told myself I’d be good, but now I’m bloated, lazy, and sprawled out like I belong in a pigpen instead of a bedroom.

And the worst part? I love it.

I love the way my belly presses up under my shirt, the way my arms feel softer, heavier. I love the shame, the heat, the way it turns me on to feel this slow, greedy fullness.

So come on. Tease me.

Call me out. Mock me for not stopping. For letting it happen again. For how easily I give in when there’s food in front of me. For how turned on I get when I know I’ve gone too far.

Because I’m not even sorry. Just stuffed, lazy… and aching for attention. 💭🍪💦

[fatty-feeder]

Keep on eating like a pig while staying as sedentary as possible.

Feel yourself grow out of every and any piece of clothing you have.

Gorge into all those delicious treats you love so much.

Keep on going till there's no other option, till the point you don't have any doubt in your mind.

Give in...

[fatty-feeder]

It’s starting to get harder to touch myself.

Not impossible, not yet.

But enough that I notice it now.

The way my belly presses against the inside of my arm when I reach down.

The soft weight of it, heavy and warm, resting there like a reminder of everything I’ve been doing to myself.

How much I’ve been eating. How much I’ve been growing.

It’s not uncomfortable, exactly. Just… new.

Slower. Thicker. Lazier.

There’s more of me to move around now, and it makes the whole thing feel different.

More effort. More wobble.

I have to shift just right to get a good angle—and even then, my hand brushes against my lower belly with every stroke, feeling how much softer I’ve gotten.

It jiggles a little, even from that.

It’s embarrassing, but… hot.

Like my body is starting to get in the way of my own pleasure.

And somehow, I love that.

Because I know this is just the beginning.

A little belly-in-the-way moment now.

But what about 20, 40, 80 pounds from now?

What happens when I have to lift and hold myself just to reach?

When I’m panting from the effort before I even get started?

When the only way I can come is by grinding into the mattress or stuffing myself so full the pressure alone makes me throb?

It’s only going to get heavier.

Only going to get softer.

And I’ll only grow more dependent… more desperate… more helplessly turned on

by the weight I’ve chosen to carry.

And that’s exactly how I want it.

[fatty-feeder]

You’re not “letting yourself go.” You’re being trained to grow.

Trained to eat past fullness.

Trained to feel pride in softness.

Trained to accept that clothes don’t fit because you’re outgrowing them on purpose.

More jiggly. More stuffed. More dependent.

That tight shirt? That wheezy climb upstairs? That second chin you keep catching in the mirror?

Those are milestones. Proof that this little feedee is on the right track.

And don’t pretend to be surprised. You’ve known what I’ve been doing.

The endless snacks. The late-night second dinners.

The way you touch your belly like it’s the best thing you've ever had.

You're already too far gone, aren’t you?

But that’s the best part: it’s only going to get better.

You’ll keep eating. Keep gaining. Keep growing soft and lazy and needy.

Get used to it.

[fatty-feeder]

I will always find it hot that instead of being “naturally” massive, I made myself this way

I chose to eat. I chose to gain. I chose hedonism. I chose to completely change my lifestyle, just for the sake of packing on hundreds of pounds.

All because it feels so fucking good.

I know a lot of folks get off to unintentional/accidental gains, but the intention and unrelenting drive behind mine will always turn me on.

Yeah, I was chubby growing up. But to grow to this size? To gain this much? It was all by choice, day by day and year by year.

And now there’s no stopping the spiral.

Always more, always fatter.

[fatty-feeder]

oof, the thought of someone sneaking weight gain powders and pills into my meals without me knowing is so fucking hot

having no idea why i’m suddenly plumping up so fast, why my belly has gotten so doughy or my thighs so thick, wondering what to do. deciding to go to the gym only to be given plenty of “protein” shakes to guzzle down to “help me out” by the same person and just blowing up twice as fast from there

settling down with my all my new wobbling fat and wondering what i’m doing wrong only for them to come and give me so much sweet attention, telling me they don’t mind all my extra flab… they even think it’s kind of sexy… letting them rub all my jiggling mass as i moan and give in to being their big fatty from now on

[fatty-feeder]

Every time you reblog this post, you'll gain 15 pounds.

[fatty-feeder]

I was an absolute pig this weekend. No excuses, no shame, just pure, indulgent gluttony. I stuffed myself stupid from Friday night to Sunday night, and I loved every second of it.

Friday? Two greasy, dripping burgers disappeared into my greedy mouth before I even blinked. Saturday started with two six-packs of gyoza, twelve little dumplings gone in minutes, followed by a fat pile of fries drowned in cheddar and bacon. Dinner? A whole midsize pizza to myself. Not a slice left, just a bloated gut and an empty box.

And today? Sunday was worse. Six thick waffles swimming in syrup for breakfast, a heavy plate of creamy pasta for lunch, and then, because I clearly hadn't had enough, I waddled into the movies to watch Fantastic Four and devoured two full chocolate bars like some overfed hog. Oh, and to top it all off? A rich, sticky sundae that made my belt cry for mercy.

Honestly, my pants didn’t stand a chance. That belt’s been clinging on for dear life all weekend, digging into my overfed belly as it swelled with every disgusting, delicious bite. I’m getting so soft. So heavy. So stuffed.

Go ahead. Tease me. I deserve it...