kimo-matsu

[kimo-matsu]

i lovee when feedees get off on how much weight they’ve gained. Touching themself while jiggling and slapping their gut, fantasizing about how much fatter they’re gonna get…orgasming to the thought of becoming even more unrecognizable under all that fat.😮‍💨

[kimo-matsu]

[kimo-matsu]

waddling is such a hot concept to me… like… you got so fat that you can’t even walk properly, let alone run or even walk quickly. no, you’re stuck struggling to even lift your feet with all that heft pulling you down and that pesky belly getting in the way. your thick thighs chafing and tugging at each other as you break a sweat doing something most people wouldn’t think twice about. with all that effort, your breathing’s labored to the point where you’re moreso snorting and wheezing than breathing properly.

…but this is all to be expected.

when you eat like a pig, you end up like one, too.

[kimo-matsu]

Eat up, big boy. Make yourself so pretty and so round again.

Be a good boy.

Open up.

Chew and swallow.

[kimo-matsu]

Face gains are truly the most underrated part of this kink.

A face made round by constantly shoveling food into it. A double chin with that permanent crease under the actual chin - the only evidence there once was a jawline. Greedy lips permanently pursed by being squeezed between two fat round cheeks.

[kimo-matsu]

Let me spoil you with your favorite treats and drinks, then rub your belly afterwards.

[kimo-matsu]

there is simply nothing hotter than when you have to hold his belly hang out of the way just to be able to get your mouth on his cock 🤭

and realize it’s too heavy to hold while you work your magic so you get a face full of soft underbelly while he’s squirming under your ministrations. a choir of angels descends from the heavens when he bucks his hips and his belly bounces against you and you can sneak in a couple kisses and nibbles on the most sensitive bits before cleaning him up with your mouth.

nothing else like it. that’s my shit right there.

[kimo-matsu]

Sleepy fatty

[kimo-matsu]

I love seeing someone’s clothes struggling to contain their fat. It’s so cute when they think they can hide how much fat they’ve packed on..as if I can’t see their lower belly hang jiggling out of their shirt, their sleeves becoming too tight for their arms, the waistband of their pants digging into their love handles covered in stretch marks. Just bursting with soft, jiggling fat that’s become impossible to hide.

[kimo-matsu]

Pig

I want to make you too fat to get off on your own, whining and begging for it.

Pathetically grinding your fatass on the couch to hump your own lard to seek some relief. Out of breath, gasping and giving up after 1 min.

And when your fatpad is big enough just waddling to the fridge to get more food would get you off feeling you fat massage your buried cock Coming halfway between the couch and fridge, wheezing, snorting and grunting, needing some support from the nearest surface, trying to catch your breath. Barely a patch on your tight sweatpants because your cock is buried so deep between your fupa, belly and thighs rolls, your balls so crushed by it, that all you manage is only a pitiful dollop of cum. Still when you see me in the kitchen, you ask between two moan and snort, that I help you to the living room, that you’re too tired and need your couch, as if you just run a marathon.

[kimo-matsu]

Being your big fat hog is all I'm good for now. My entire body is too thick and heavy, my mind is too addicted for me to even think about doing anything myself. My arms are so heavy they're practically useless for anything other than shoveling more fattening slop in my mouth, but even then, that gets exhausting to do after a few minutes. My thighs are so large that they force my legs to spread out, and they still touch. My ass is so huge and heavy that no amount of chairs could ever hope contain it. My belly has reached a point where it covers most of my lower body if I sit up. I'm absolutely covered in squshy, jiggling lard with rolls all over. I haven't even considered trying, but I don't know if my body can even get up or stand on its own anymore. But it's not enough. No matter how much you and I work to stuff me, no matter how full I am, it's never enough. I need more. I need to be bigger. Both because I know you can't get enough of your food addicted piggy growing for you, and because I love what I've turned into. I need to become a fully immobile morbidly obese blob for you. I get so horny thinking about how big I am and how I'm still only going to keep getting bigger. But since I can't reach to pleasure myself, I have to desperately beg you to touch me. Of course I don't get that privilege until I've been a good fat boy, eating everything you prepared for me while you praise me for being such a pig. When you lay face down on top of me, I notice something damp rubbing up against me. You start teasing me, tempting me. If I wasn't such a fatass, I could reach down there and touch myself, but instead, I'm at your mercy. I whimper and moan, but continue stuffing my face. It's not very noticeable, but you can tell I'm desperately shoveling this stiff into my mouth as fast as my heavy arms will let me. Finally, I finished all my food, and you start digging through the rolls and folds of softness that are hiding the only hard thing on my body. Your search eventually ends. From there, as I stare at what's visible of you behind my belly, as pleasure overwhelmes me, only these words come to mind.

I'm such a huge fatty

I need to keep growing

I need to be bigger

I won't stop eating

Because I'm your fat pig

That's all I'm good for

That's all I was ever meant to be.

[kimo-matsu]

Tightness

Today’s feeder thought: tightness.

Let’s imagine we’ve ordered takeaway, the usual spread fit for a family of four. But, as usual, it’s all for you.

Let’s imagine you’ve been a really good feedee for me, and you’ve eaten it all. You’re surrounded by the destruction your appetite has left in its wake: empty boxes, wrappers, drink cups.

Now, you’re beached. The sheer quantity of food inside your belly pushes you back, lying on the bed. I place my hand on your belly, and it’s tight. Especially the upper part. It’s solid mass.

Usually, your belly jiggles. I can push, pull, run my hands all over you and through your folds. But now, you’re bloated, taut, full and tight.

Belly rubs turn into just the tips of my fingers grazing the skin stretched across your belly. You breathe light, shallow breaths, because anything deeper hurts. You can’t think or speak, only being able to lightly moan, because you’re too focussed on breathing through the tightness, focussed on your belly.

You were wearing a pair of loose joggers at the start of this meal. Their waistband is now stretched tight across your belly, pressing in against you now. For a few moments it’s painful whilst I help you take them off, but then a breath of relief as your belly is freed.

I whisper in your ear:

“You’ve done so well, I know it’s painful, but this is how you grow. This is how that beautiful belly will get bigger, how you’ll become fatter. You want that don’t you? Rest now, try to relax, and I’ll be back later with dessert.”

Inspired by a recent feeding experience. If you’d like this to be your reality, feedees, you know where to find me.

[kimo-matsu]

You're not fat enough. You need to keep eating. You need to keep growing. You need your body to be covered in more and more heavy, jiggling lard. Keep giving in, driving yourself further into gluttony. I need you to be a good, lazy pig, addicted to food and growing more and more.

Because you love it.

Because I love it.

You can't get enough of it all, and I'm going to make sure you stay that way. A horny fatty, always desperate to gain another pound.

Go on piggy

Take another bite

Grab another snack

Eat another meal

Keep turing yourself into even bigger, greedy fatass than you are now. A pig's work is never done.

Eat up

[kimo-matsu]

What happened to you?

Thanks @bellylover1610 for the prompt - about a guy who gains and ends up being around 300 lbs.

For years, you couldn't gain weight. But that was good, right? At least, that's what your friends told you - jealous of your relatively slim body as they themselves gained a pound of two, because, you know, life.

That didn't happen to you and you were disappointed - even though you barely admitted it before yourself. You'd roam the Internet and find feedist blogs, but you'd never dip your toes into feedism in real life. I mean, where would you even start? Those gainers chugging weight gain shakes like it was nothing seemed like something from a different planet.

What nobody told you was that change happens gradually - through forming small habits and accumulating them over time. Some people out there are fat without even trying, but for you, it was a thing of hacking the system.

Ironically, it was some diet advice that gave you the idea. Some self-help article you stumbled upon that encouraged people to start out with small, relatively easy habits. Exchanging a full sugar Coke for a diet version, or fries for a salad.

Couldn't you just do the opposite?

That's how it started. You wrote down all food and drink you consumed during the week, and thought about alternatives. Is there a more sugary option than the juice? A more greasy version of this meal? A slightly larger one? Could you drink coffee with cream instead of milk?

It was easy, almost like you were playing a game. It felt relatively low stakes - how much could you, realistically, gain from all this? 5 pounds, maybe. It felt like dipping your toes into something exciting and forbidden.

But that's the thing about games - if we succeed in an easy task, we want more. More achievements, more fun. And you were a goal-oriented guy. So other habits followed: adding a dessert to your lunch; eating late at night; using large plates; decreasing the amount of steps you walked every day. It felt like you were still playing, but in reality, you were hacking your brain.

The changes weren't noticeable, at first. Until you started feeling that slight pressure in your middle when you buttoned your pants. Until you discovered that your stomach rounded out slightly when you sat down.

That was the moment you realized it was happening for real. You got a bit wary - maybe you should stop?

But it was too late. The habits had formed. The dessert was now a second nature, coffee without cream just tasted vile, and walking was annoying anyway. So even if you remembered to eat a smaller meal once or twice, these singular acts would soon get lost amidst a wave of your new habits. Fat habits.

Your body soon followed your conditioned mind. Three months, and you had to size up. Your friends stopped saying they were jealous, and instead gave you weird looks. Your muscles were coated with a layer of fat, and you felt like a marshmallow. But you weren't stopping there. More months passed, and you had a proper belly. Then, a gut. Then, a hanging gut. Your appetite was increasing. You'd look in the mirror from time to time and see a round-cheeked man with a double chin.

It wasn't anything spectacular, like what happened to all those gainers and feedees you watched online. But it happened. Soft, pillowy fat covered your body, and you grew weak and slow. You were heavy, and moving was bothersome. You were hungry, and you satisfied this hunger as much as you could. Finally, you started chugging shakes, just like the gainers you had been observing.

And now, here we are, 3 years later. You stepped on a scale and it maxed out at 300 lbs. You broke your habits, and they broke you. How does it feel to waddle, fat boy? To get out of breath? To jiggle and wobble?

You're smiling, so I assume you are content with your fate.

[kimo-matsu]

The struggle. That's the sexiest aspect to a morbidly obese man.

The struggle to roll over, the struggle to walk, even the struggle to breathe... it's breathtakingly sexy.

Struggling to pull down his shirt, which had been too small for a while... his fat belly riddled with red stretch marks made a small appearance beneath the clothing. His fat hands could barely reach to pull it down over his belly, but he kept trying. As if a hint of flesh sticking out was so undesirable that it was worth the pointless effort of constantly pulling the shirt down.

Finally on his feet, I watch as he takes one difficult step at a time. His belly falls to his knees and bounces against them with every step. It's so heavy that his waddle is quite pronounced; I know he can't walk normally. He never will again. He huffs and puffs with the effort. His mouth never closing; which was something he was familiar with when it came to his appetite.

Every bit of bloated flesh, hanging off of his body in huge rolls of blubber, deserves to be praised. He's a god. A heavenly body of absolute beauty.

Each pound of fat on his frame was a testament to his extreme gluttony.

And just like his impressive appetite, he was perfect. ♡

[kimo-matsu]

Enormous

I want you to be absolutely enormous. I want your neck to dissappear under multiple folds of thick, billowing fat. And below your many chins, two massive breasts, heaving up and down looking swollen and round. They would sit atop a massive belly, packed always to the limit with as much food as possible. Grease would run down your chins, dripping slowly down the massive globular expanse of your belly, before it would be intercepted, licked up by your sausagey fingers, at the end of two thick arms. I want your legs to be two massive trunks of fat and cellulite, always rubbing together no matter how much you spread them apart. Your round belly would it atop them, rising up and down with your every breath, always grumbling for more.

I need you to be enormous, and I know that, deep down, you need it too.

[kimo-matsu]

You had just come out as a man a month ago. Started T too.

Looking in the mirror though everything still seemed “wrong” . Your binder held down your tits but your hips flared out and your thighs touched. Your bubble butt was too much of a bubble. Something needed to drastically change.

You were very nervous about your plan. This plan could potentially back fire majorly. He even explained that to you. At first, gaining weight could accentuate your feminine features. However as you took testosterone, the fat would redistribute into a more manly physique.

“Well not manly in the traditional sense,” your date told you, “not even manly in the way a bear looks. Manly as in becoming a fucking whale.”

The first month of your and your feeder dating was something else. You’ve never experienced anything like this before. Sure he was sweet and would take you out and show you off as his boyfriend, but most boyfriends don’t shovel over 10k calories a day into their lovers. He was right about looking more feminine as the weight came on. Your tits became swollen and your hips flared out even more. Your thighs wobbled as they moved. Your face became rounder, with a double chin joining in. You still had days like this but something about your feeder made you forget them. Maybe it was how he pounded your ass every time you met, how he grabbed at the new fat, and how he lovingly fed you like a prized pig.

3 months and 50 pounds in you did begin to look manlier. You noticed this as your feeder lover began to play with your gut in front of the mirror. Your gut eclipsed your fat ass and thighs an little. It was so soft. Everything about you is now. Your chin is growing a third, your beard accents your fat face. You’ve asked your lover to increase your meals. Your T-dick stands at attention every time you eat now. You’ve even face timed him to show off how you can still reach under your gut and get off with one hand while the other funnels ice cream down your throat. You love how the extra fat feels as it encroaches into your clothes, as it bursts buttons, and especially as it weighs you down. From how your feeder fucks you, you know he feels the same.

It’s been 6 months and 150 pounds gained. The number is astonishing but it makes sense considering that you and your lover have been fucking like rabbits and you have been eating like a bear going into hibernation. Your lover is making you eat an entire cake while he fucks you and makes you watch in the mirror. Your ass is enormous. It wobbles and shakes with each thrust, in time with your massive and hairy sagging tits. Your thighs are covered in hair and look like they’re made of cottage cheese. Your belly hits the floor now, developing multiple rolls. Your fat face has grown a third chin. It’s covered in cake and cum. Your new facial hair catches it well.

A year in and you’re no longer a piggy, but a hog. You asked your feeder to shave your head. He gladly obliged, your baldness shows off how fat your face has gotten perfectly. It also helps that at every moment you’re awake, your eating something. You truly haven’t stopped eating unless you’re sleeping since the 6 month mark. Your moobs hang to the side of your monstrous belly, showing off how hairy you have gotten. However you can no longer see the happy trail that starts at your deep bellybutton. Looking in the mirror, you grab your fat pad and shake it. Your lover loves to fuck it and rub his cock on yours. Your thighs compete with each other for space even when standing. You can still walk but it’s a pronounced waddle. Your ass has gotten fatter but it balances out your physique; without it your gargantuan gut would put too much strain on your back. Your feeder was right: you do look manly, but not in the way bears look.

You look like an overfed, well fucked, slob.