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so much more than a handful 😰

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I want to grab at your fat gut as you lay down on the bed with me, sloshing all of that useless mass of fat up and down. Would you be embarrassed but how far you’ve pushed yourself? Or would you find it erotic? What if do you do both?

Fatty.

Your dick hardening as I keep slapping your fat stomach against the soft fat pad and again. Peeking out from its blubbery prison.

So worked up.

It’s so hot to watch you squirm and try to get more. More friction. More movement. More anything.

Desperate.

I’ll just chuckle. You fatty. Do you think you’re gonna get off before I do? Wrong. You’re gonna earn it.

After all, you know how to eat.

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What if i tied you up to the end of this machine, forced you to swallow one after an another, watching you swell and whine as you become increasingly encumbered?

You got this, sweetie. You're made to eat.

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I want to look at you in awe, to let my eyes and hands trail on that decadent swell of your gut.

Gently pushing against the soft surface, wobbling all of that pretty pretty lard you’ve made.

Look at yourself. Such a good boy for me. Feels heavy, doesn’t it?

Just… lay down, baby. It’s okay. You don’t need to worry about a thing.

You’re beautiful.

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Signs of Happiness

(Here’s a lovely little story about a SSBBW fattening up her partner to her size and beyond! It was a fun request by a wonderful follower and fellow community member.)

“Hey, I’m home!” Dylan called, walking inside the house and setting down his keys and wallet. He carefully laid down a bouquet of flowers while he pulled off his jacket before grabbing the bouquet and walking into the kitchen.

Keep reading

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anyway so i'm still super fat and hot

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Does this bikini make me look fat? 🤭

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i think one of my favourite stuffing scenarios is the aftermath of a massive gluttonous feast. like

when someone has stuffed themselves so completely they can only belch and moan, leaning back in their chair(s) because their gut is so bloated full of food that it physically pushes them back. their thick lower belly is hanging low and spreading their doughy thighs apart, resting heavily on a plump fat pad. the crest of their belly is so round and taut that its almost a perfect shelf for their ample, growing breasts. and you KNOW they’re totally stuffed to the brim because they can’t stop hiccuping shallowly, burps pouring out of them with every other breath because there’s just no room at all in their overstuffed gut

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The noises!

I get wet just thinking about it.

The grunting and groaning as you try to move. Hundreds of pounds of fat weigh you down and I hear the effort as you huff and puff. I hear the effort as you grunt and groan. You might as well be a gym-rat trying to do deadlifts. Only... it's your own body you need to hold up.

When you eat, the noises get even more sexy. You burp loudly and moan. We stuff you to oblivion. It's a team effort. You eat as much as you can on your own... but then it's my turn. You're not full enough. I know you are moaning in pain and burping to make more room.  To you... you're full. But to me... oh, honey, you have so much more to consume. And I will shovel every calorie I can into your wide and accepting mouth.

I love hearing you burp. I love hearing you moan. I love watching your hands on the extreme bloated belly that you carry everywhere... the way you touch yourself... you're proud of your gluttonous obesity. You jiggle yourself, and you feel your dick standing at attention. But can it even stand? You're too fat to reach it... too fat to pleasure yourself. You need me.

Your fat hands hold up your belly to give me access. But even when you are as hard as a rock, the fat surrounding your groin hides your manhood from me. I have to dig. It's an excavation of gluttonous results. And I have to jiggle you and keep you hard as I search.

But what happens when I find it? Are you able to cum? My hands can't do the work. My womanhood can't do the work... there's too much fat in the way. But my mouth certainly can.

While your mouth is filled with food, my mouth is filled with your dick. It's almost a lesson in diving. I go under, wrapping my warm wet mouth around you. I need to come up for air more often than I'd like... the fat around your dick blocks my nostrils from getting oxygen. I get a breath of air and then my mouth returns to you, tickling your shaft with my tongue ring. And the noises begin again. Moaning, grunting, whispers of sexy words: "I'm so fat. So fucking fat. Oh God... keep going!"

You're living the dream. But so am I. Every excess pound on your body makes me wet. You cum vigorously as I accept it into my mouth. But now it's your turn. You want to eat more, honey? Well, I've got something for you to eat. ♡

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Shifting your limits...

Your partner admitted they have a "thing" for big girls, but you're not really interested in indulging whatever fantasies they have. Sure, you're a little chubby, and you probably won't mind if they want to grope you in some places you're not really used to... But that's where it stops. Sooner or later, you're going to hit the gym and lose that squishiness. They're not going to talk you out of that.

But all that groping ends up being pretty fun...

They're always so gentle and sweet when you let them play with your little belly roll. Getting to squeeze those soft parts of you that you always used to hide gets them so turned on and desperate, and you'd be lying if you said their excitement wasn't infectious. You've gotten used to their groping more quickly than you expected. Last night, they didn't give your belly a *single* squeeze... And you're embarrassed that it's something you noticed.

Some part of you wanted to make sure that it didn't happen again...

Maybe it was the fact that you were having a couple of beers together, and your better judgement was a little impaired by that. But it doesn't change the fact that you ate way too much tonight. And not because you didn't notice, or because there was food to spare, or any excusable reason...

You just wanted your belly to look extra full so that your partner would touch it.

Maybe you made it too obvious when you unbuttoned your jeans just to make it easier for them to slip their hand in and give you some squeezes, but at the time, you were just desperate for that familiar groping... For some reason, you like their hands on your belly more now than you like them anywhere else.

And your partner definitely noticed...

They'd tease you about it sometimes. One time, when you were spooning on the couch, they let their hand slide up your thigh, past your hips, under your top, around to your side... and then just left it there, tantalisingly close to your soft, freshly-filled tummy. You gave them an almost pleading look, but they just grinned and looked down at the bag of chips on the table. You had just finished dinner and weren't really hungry, but the implication was clear. It only took you a couple of seconds of thought before your hands grasped the bag and tore it open. Their hand moved down to squeeze your cute paunch right away, and you couldn't help the huge smile that spread over your face because of it, as you started cramming chips into your mouth..

It was always just one-off little events like that in your mind. You didn't notice that it was becoming a pattern.

Sometimes you'd notice that they're clearly just trying to get you to eat more. Like when they'd goad you into ordering a dessert when you went out on dates, or brought you back a snack from the kitchen that you didn't ask for. But it never bothered you... Your mind just jumped to thinking about how good the belly rubs they'd give you later would feel, especially when you're extra-full, and you'd indulge their mischievous little scheme. Other times though, you didn't even notice you were playing into their fantasies... It was becoming so natural for you to eat more that you forgot why you were still scooping up more ice-cream when your stomach was already so stuffed.

By the time you realised what was going on, it was already too late.

Your whole wardrobe used to consist of loose, baggy outfits. You were chubby, so you liked to be able to hide your slightly plump figure behind less form-fitting clothes. But now, all of your clothes *actually* fit you like they were supposed to. Worse, some of them were even getting a little bit tight around your ass and you midriff... despite being size XL. Your partner didn't even try to hide their delight at how they could see every inch of you gut and thighs and love handles outlined by your clothes now.

You were pissed off with them, and blamed them for fattening you up so much, and swore you were going to lose the weight, and told them you were going on a strict diet, and... and... your resolve didn't hold up for very long. You spent two days dieting before your first cheat day, which was promptly followed by a cheat week. By the third day, you apologised to your partner for blaming them - It was clearly *not* all their fault, you shouldn't have been so oblivious. By the fourth, you were letting them squeeze and grope your belly again, because you missed the feeling of their hands appreciating your squishiness, and how incredibly horny it made you both. Within a week, you were back to your old ways, satisfied that they had promised to buy you some bigger clothes as an apology.

One night, you were both a little drunk, eating pizza. And they asked if they could feed you some slices.

This is the sort of behaviour that would have set off alarm bells a couple of months ago, if they had asked you back when they first revealed their fetish to you. But sitting there now, with their hand already holding your much thicker belly roll and clearly admiring the way it was joining up with your love handles to form a spare tire around your waist... You found yourself far too tempted by the proposal to turn it down.

Neither of you expected you to love it so much. The moans that escaped your lips between mouthfuls of pizza weren't even intentional. Feeling his firm grip on you fat gut as you lie back and let him push slice after slice down your eager throat just made you feel so helpless and subservient in a way you had never felt before... Your mind was going blank, your lust was building, and your partner could feel how excited you were getting when they slipped a hand into your panties.

"Are you... You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

You closed your eyes and continued chewing, unable to meet their gaze as they asked you the question, but the crimson colour shame blossoming on your face made the truth obvious.

"And here I thought I was the one to blame. Didn't you say it was me who was making you... fat?"

They put emphasis on that last word that sent a shiver down your spine. Your bucked your hips instinctively, making your overfed belly jiggle and pushing their hand deeper into your panties. But they pulled it back out, holding you in place by the pile of blubber in your lap. You opened your eyes and pouted at them, but they just smiled.

"I don't want to be accused of making you do something you don't want to do, baby..." they said, grabbing another slice of pizza from the box. It was the last slice. They hadn't eaten any. You had almost finished the whole box. "So, I want to make it abundantly clear to you this time..." They brought the pizza towards your lips. The delicious smell filled your nostrils, and you drool a little onto your round, exposed belly.

"If you keep eating like this, babe, you're going to become such a fat, lazy pig..." They smile at you, sending butterflies racing through your uncomfortably stuffed stomach. You squirm again, but the force of their grip on your belly roll and the weight of your fattened figure pin you in place. "But you'll be *my* pig. And I'll make sure my greedy, horny little sow gets everything she needs, any time she wants it..." Their hand releases its grip on your gut and returns to your panties, making you gasp. They use the opportunity to place the edge of the slice onto your salivating lips.

"Will you be my big, soft, feedee pig, baby?"

You take the biggest bite out of the slice of pizza that you possibly can, whimpering as the greasy, cheesy bite slides down your throat and lands in your already completely stuffed gut. They smile, giving your gut an affectionate jiggle before pulling aside your panties and making you squirm with pleasure as they continue to feed you the final slice.

Any reservations about becoming a fat, greedy pig for them are forced out of you to make room for the last of the pizza. You can't wait to give them so much more to play with...

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I know your friends have started talking, and I know it's easy to get tired of them asking - are you sure you need dessert tonight? Do you want to come along to the gym as their guest? But, baby, they're trying to be good friends. And really, you should try to enjoy it while it lasts.

Before long the questions will turn into sighs, the sighs into stares. There will be whispered conversations that end as you return to the table with an overladen plate. Again. Someone will start to say...something...and the group will silence them. You'll look to me, shrug it off. Maybe it should bother you, but I squeeze your thigh under the table as you settle back in and suddenly you're starving.

At the end of the night there will be a moment of stillness, held breath, as you wedge yourself from a booth that's grown tighter over the course of the evening. Looks back and forth. No one says a word. Your cheeks flushed red with effort, embarrassment at being caught out. I can almost feel them wondering if this will be it - the moment you finally realize what you've done to yourself. I almost hold my breath with them, but then -

I cuddle up to your side, one hand around your back, the other just barely brushing your beltline. You're not even full, yet, my poor darling. You've been so cautious tonight. I rise up on my toes to kiss your face, suggest softly that I bring the car to the front. Is that panic in your eyes? But no, these are your friends. And it's such a long walk across the parking lot.

You'll have to make small talk around the table as everyone slips easily into coats. They all seem to glide across the restaurant, highlighting your slightly halting gait - not full, yet, but heavy nonetheless. At the door as you wait, someone finally breaks free of the group hypnosis, and makes an awkward start. Are you sure...is everything...that is...and finally, "You good, though?"

As he says it your phone lights up with a text message confirming the dessert order I've placed for pick up on the way home. You type something to me, watch headlights fill the dark space outside the door. As you hit send on a request for a drive-through run first, you smile at him.

"So good," you tell him, pushing out into the chill of the end of the night. I get out of the car to let you have the driver's seat while you can, and you kiss the top of my head. "So good," you say again.

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I can’t help but bite my bottom lip anytime I have to watch you adjust your belly, it’s not my fault that it’s so hot that there is so much of you that you’re in your own way.

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i just think i’m so cute. and SO fat. could be fatter though, right??

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Feedist kinktober #5: Witch's brew

You lean back into the pillows as she puts the heavy flask to your lips.

"Don't worry, you just stop drinking when you're happy with your weight."

she reassures you with a sly smile.

"Pretty simple, right?"

You fail to be completely reassured, but it's too late now.

She tilts the bottle ever so slightly.

You twinge a bit when it suddenly hits your mouth, heavy and thick but perfectly smooth. You let it pool in your mouth while you work up the courage to swallow, and once you do the full experience begins to hit you.

Intense flavours unfold in the back of your throat and work their way forward; creamy, honey-sweet, nutty, flowery is what you think as you try to describe it. An unusual warm tingling sensation spreads through your mouth and throat. Intoxicating.

The next gulp is instinctual and you shiver as the flavours seem to intensify and get more complicated: hints of tea, chocolate, pine, nougat... folding in on themselves and tingling your senses. The thick, velvety substance fills your mouth and plays with your tongue. You pick up the rythm and swallow another large mouthful.

"It's good isn't it?"

Good is a laughable understatement.

You drink the liquid down with a fervor bordering on desperation. It's thick in your throat, and tingles all the way down, landing heavily in your stomach like concrete. You feel the skin of your belly brush against the fabric of your clothes and you notice how full you are. Unable to look down you feel it with your hands; round and taut, somehow already fuller than you've ever been.

"Very good" she coos.

You drink deeply and sheepishly.

The weight in your belly feels good.

The flavours seems to grow and climb, up your spine, clouding your mind, tethering on the edge of overstimulation.

"You're taking it very well."

She tilts the flask further.

An uneasiness washes over you.

You have no idea how much is too much and the heaviness in your stomach is beginning to turn unpleasant. Suddenly the sweetness is sickening and overwhelming.

You slow down as you start to feel queasy, holding your protesting abdomen for comfort. It's so much and it's so heavy and you feel like you're going to be sick.

"Don't worry, you can take a bit more."

Your stomach growls and trembles under your fingers, you briefly feel like you're going to be unwell; then with a sudden loud gurgle your mind goes briefly blank as a feeling of deep relief washes over you.

"Theeere it is..."

It's as if somebody removed a plug from your stomach and a pleasant warm feeling begins to spread throughout your whole body.

Instantly, once again the sickly sweet becomes good, the heaviness becomes comforting, and drinking becomes irresistable.

"Good, good..." She coos.

"You're doing wonderfully."

Each gulp sends a shockwave of pleasure throughout your entire body. You can't help but let your hands wander.

Your clothes are beginning to feel uncomfortable. At first you think it's the heat, but then you start to realize how tight they are.

You place your hands on your hips.

You can feel the flesh pulse with every mouthful, noticeably bulging, swelling under your fingers.

Your eyes roll back as the sensations flood your mind.

The witch laughs.

"Does it feel good?"

It does.

Tight fabric digging into warm, growing meat. You eagerly trace the roundness of your now luxurious curves, you bob the plump flesh of your developing gut, and you marvel at the unexpected heft of your body as you shift it around to get more comfortable.

"My my, don't you just look delicious!"

You keep on drinking.

You are definitely beyond the body you set out to attain but you never want this feeling to stop.

You hazily note the seams of your once loose clothes coming apart. The painful constriction of the fabric giving way to relief as buttons begin to pop and your body spills out victoriously.

"So eager and greedy!"

The witch climbs over you, resting her body on your pillowy gut to better hold the flask.

"Careful now, I don't think they make clothes upwards of this size." She teases, prodding you with her leg.

As if you could ever stop.

You wonder how much could possibly be in that bottle, it feels like an impossible amount. Could it be infinite? Could you be stuck like this forever?

You feel her pointy elbows digging into your swelling flesh, so sensitive now.

"Such a good fat plum pudding."

You feel yourself spilling out amongst the pillows, your entire body a playground for new sensations.

Wave after wave of delicious fat washes over you, each one bringing a new level of ecstacy building onto the last, swelling into a gluttonous crescendo of physical pleasures.

Suddenly your mouth is empty.

"Wow! I can't believe you finished the whole bottle." The witch says with feigned surprise.

You lick the rim to catch the last droplets.

The witch bites her lower lip and traces circles along your belly.

"Very nice..."

She grabs and squeezes your lovehandles.

"Are you satisfied?" She smirks.

You manage a modest burp before desperately blurting out the only coherent word your dopamine riddled brain can deign to conjure up at the moment:

"More?"

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I can’t stop thinking about funnel feeding.

I’d tease someone’s lips with my thumb and start kissing the soft bulge of fat around their neck, working my way up. My lips meet theirs and it’s gentle at first, until I grab a handful of their hair while nibbling their lower lip, pulling slightly away with it still between my teeth. I’d get up to make them a massive shake of pure butter, heavy cream, peanut butter, and ice cream, leaving them eager for more while they sit pinned onto the couch under a blanket of lard. I’ll funnel the shake down their throat. Their eyes looking up at me, mock-pleading for me to stop but not being able to speak. Cream will pour out the sides of their mouth and onto their shirt, which maybe fit about 5 sizes ago, but now clearly does not. Tears in the underarm highlight dollops of fat begging to be freed, and the fabric is so taut I can see every last dimple of cellulite defiling their chest.

After stuffing them to their highest limit, the middle of the sofa dipping under their weight, I’ll get on my knees, eye level with their distended, gurgling gut. I’d press my hands so deep into their flab that my hands disappear completely. I’d bite the bottom of their belly that stays jiggly and soft no matter how much slop they choke down. I’d stick my tongue in every plum red, cavernous stretch mark, finally giving their brimming belly the attention it deserves. I’ll run my fingers over their stretch marks. Proof of how disgustingly large and lazy they’ve gotten. There’s not an inch of their body I could touch without finding one. I’ll wrap my arms around however much I can of them, which now is barely half of their waistline, and press my face into their folds. I want to feel the 10,000 calorie shake I just forced inside of them slosh around each time they have to hoist their blubber up just to take a single strained breath. By then I wouldn’t be able to contain myself. I’d continue to work my way down. Eagerly burrowing into their fat pad to find the last visible tip of their cock. I’d push their flabby, sagging apron of a gut up like an umbrella over me while I go down on them.

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Gosh one of the hottest things ever is to read about how men can’t reach themselves any more.

How their need for food, to be full, has overridden any reason so long that all that’s left of them is a lard locked manhood. How it’s been swallowed up by the calories they keep stuffing in their face.

You might not even know that’s your goal when gaining. But that’s where you’re headed.

Into needing my help to get off like a good lil blubber ball.

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The cow side of things seems to have damped down lately, is it a kink that's of less interest now?

i actually took this pic today lol, i’ve been trying things on again as i unpack :3

but, nooo!! i just haven’t had much time to indulge the kink lately?? it’s getting a lot better though and i’m very much slowly settling back into everything 🥰