#feedism fic.
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Intox Fatty
Your phone dings, a notification popping up and lighting the screen. You lazily pry your eyes from the TV, glancing over to see the all-too-familiar delivery service logo on the message. Your food was approaching. Had it been 30 minutes already? As blissfully stoned as you were, you had gotten so enamored with the mindless streaming you were doing that time just seemed to fly by! But you know how much you love to see that logo pop up on your phone. You know how conditioned you’ve become to get that hit of dopamine at the promise of your cravings soon to be fulfilled. You almost expect your stomach to growl, as hungry as you feel. But it doesn’t…Then you recall how you raided the fridge and pantry just an hour before. You had consumed thousands of calories of your own food so recently, and then you got delivery? You realize you aren’t even particularly hungry. You just want to eat. You not only crave the sensation of tasting the delicious food you’ve ordered, but the euphoria of constantly eating and filling your body like the hedonistic pig you had turned into.
You let out a slight sigh, and let your hand wander to your overflowing belly, rubbing it softly in the anticipation of your next feast. How did this feel so good? The overwhelming pleasure you got at simply feeling your body, the amount that it had fattened up, a true testament to how much you let yourself indulge so freely. You felt like royalty. You got everything you wanted, when you wanted, and you hardly had to lift a finger to get any of it. It was utter bliss. Utter hedonism. And you smiled at this fact as you took another bong hit. Finally, another notification. Your food was at your door.
You shift from side to side, lifting yourself up with your slightly shaking arms, you heaving your softened, doughy body up and standing, all your fat shifting to hang from your body, now unsupported by the couch. You saunter over to your door, checking to make sure that no one was still at the door. How embarrassing it might be for the delivery person to see you in such a state. You were only in your underwear, after all. It was practically your only option any more if you wanted to relax comfortably. You were gaining weight so quickly, your clothes couldn’t keep up. It seemed that every piece of clothing you bought was getting tight just a month or two later. It almost made you curious to see how your jeans from 100lbs ago would fit. They probably wouldn’t even make it past your thighs now.
You get lost in these thoughts of how irreversably obese you’ve gotten and before you knew it, you had shuffled back to the couch and sat down, your hefty bag of takeout sitting beside you. And your thoughts are quickly replaced with pure excitement as you lean over to begin pulling containers from the bag. It was like opening gifts on Christmas morning, rifling through this bag. The first box feels the heaviest, and the smell of greasy, fried food wafts over you. NOW, your stomach rumbles. You open it and, with your hands, begin to stuff the calorie-rich loaded cheese fries in your face, hardly savoring the taste as you simply eat with ravenous abandon. But the savory, salty taste finds you anyway, and only drives you further into this gluttonous feasting you find yourself in. It was heavenly…bite after bite, you quickly empty the box. Hardly a dent in your appetite. You needed more.
The next box, or rather two boxes, filled with perfectly deep-fried mozzarella sticks and assorted dips. It was always so amusing to see how they packaged these massive orders of yours. Multiple utensils included, multiple orders of the same things separated into individual boxes, all as if the restaurant expected this order to be for at least 3 people. But it was always just for you. All for you. You moan softly as you continue to feed yourself, licking your fingers with each bite, engrossed in what a greedy, obese fatass you were being.
Another box down, then another. And another. You could feel your stomach stretching at this point, pushing into your lap further. If you weren’t so in love with what a massive appetite you had, it would almost be concerning how much you could pack away now. So many pounds of food now fit into your gut, a far contrast to your appetite even fifty pounds ago, which had already increased so much since you decided to let yourself fall into this lifestyle. You put a hand on your swollen belly and squeeze it, feeling the results of so long doing just this. You groan and keep stuffing your face, leaning back and placing one of your last boxes of food on your gut like a table. You’re obsessed by this feeling. Your hand wanders more over your body, grabbing, squeezing, wobbling all of the fattest parts of your body, thinking of how you had put on more than 150lbs in the pursuit of this intoxicating pleasure. You can’t help yourself. You push your heavy belly out of the way and spread your massive thighs, beginning to touch yourself as you eat.
You breathe heavily, moaning between bites, turned on even more by the fact that your labored breathing is caused by both your arousal and the expenditure of such minimal effort to do something as basic as getting yourself off. Any average-sized person could do either or both without getting as winded as you do. You were such an out of shape pig, so overcome with heavy fat. It covered your body, hindered your movement, left you panting and winded when you did the simplest things, filled you out so much that you couldn’t fit on normal chairs without your hips and ass spilling over the edges. And practically any chair with arms was impossible to sit in. You even noticed that your body was beginning to get too wide for the double-seats at the hospital waiting room… But all of this, all it did was make you want more. More size. More food. More indulgence. More…
You were so full…you had eaten so much all day long, and the day before. And honestly, the day before that. No wonder you had grown so massively fat. Constantly eating left you in a state of constantly gaining weight, growing new stretch marks, accumulating more cellulite. It never stopped. You couldn’t stop. And acknowledging this pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed, the familiar tingle spread across your body as you lay your head back and moan, grunt, and finally cum. Your body trembles, making all of your heavy fat wobble and jiggle, heightening the pleasure, especially feeling your belly slap your full thighs as you rock back and forth.
Exhausted, panting, body heaving up and down with each breath, takeout boxes scattered around you, each one completely empty, you can hardly gather your thoughts. A satisfied smile on your face, your body finally relaxes and you practically melt into the couch. You can feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness, from the exhaustion of getting yourself off, a food coma, or from being so stoned, you can’t tell. You don’t care. You were full, pleasured, and feeling like the most self-indulgent hog in the world. The least you could do is treat yourself to a nap, and wake up even bigger and wider as all the calories you just ate accumulated on your ever-growing body.
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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.
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temple to a god of hedonism that gradually changes those inside to best live lives of pleasure and feasting
if you visit once, and stay for only a few minutes, you might get out with only a little extra softness on your frame, easy enough to work off. if you stay for much longer, well...
theres a growing hunger in your stomach, despite not eating that long ago. but it's a temple to a god of parties and feasting - there's plenty of food available. the dishes only seem to grow more aromatic the longer you stand near them and, when you cave and try a mouthful, it's unbelievably delicious.
you're so taken with the taste, you don't notice what's happening to your body. your stomach bloats from your gorging, and then softens into a wobbling belly that tests the durability of your clothes, hanging lower and lower towards your thick thighs. leaning over the table for another plate, your ass sticks out behind you, round and cellulite-ridden. your figure is soft, swelling, a picture of indulgence.
and it's not long before the servants of this god come and show you another kind of pleasure. warm hands make contact with sensitive skin and you moan through mouthfuls of rich food. they guide you to a soft chair, lean you back, make sure your every want in this moment is fulfilled. one continues to feed you all manner of decadent desserts. several more attend to your body, removing the remains of the constricting clothes you entered in and then kissing, massaging, rubbing every growing, jiggling inch of you. your chest is squeezed, nipples toyed with. your gut is oiled and played with. once they're done teasing you, one hefts the blubbery mass up while another finally reaches between your legs.
the next day, you wake up in one of their luxurious beds, the most well rested you've ever been. you're free to leave, of course. but as the heavenly smell of breakfast finds your nose, you also notice the new set of temple robes at the end of your bed, inviting you to join their ranks
#art writes#wg text#weight gain kink#magic weight gain#wg kink#feedism fic#wg writing#fat kink#tummy kink#weight gain writing#rapid wg#rapid weight gain#magic wg#this has been half finished in my drafts forever and im being too perfectionist about it so it's being posted#im more of a visual artist then a writer so im always iffy on things like this i guess!
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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.
#feedee perspective#ffa#female feeder#weight gain post#weight gain story#wg text#rapid weight gain#wg kink#belly kink#getting fatter#feeder kink#wg fic#feedism story
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from a wg roleplay quiz
You wake up in a strange room and have no idea how you got there. There are no windows and only one door, and all the walls are mirrors. You see a screen with a number: your current weight. You stand up, tense. A disguised voice suddenly tells you that you are about to start gaining weight rapidly. The game has begun.
You see the number on the screen increase by one. Supposedly you have gained one pound, but you don't feel any different. Then the number increases again. Then jumps two. You hope it goes to your butt.
The number says you have gained four pounds. You still don't look or feel any different and you still have a flat, tight abdomen and a toned figure. You wish this stupid game would get to the point already. Your eyes turn to stare at your svelte body.
You have gained eight pounds. You were beginning to think this is all fake, but now when you touch your belly it feels less tight than before, more sensitive. It still looks flat, but now it feels almost squishy! You barely look any different, but now your body is starting to feel ever so slightly softer. You notice how you're aware of the sensation of your clothing on your skin...
You have gained sixteen pounds. You still look mostly the same, but you look and feel like you're being filled up. It's a noticeable gain. Your jawline is softer. You can pinch an inch or so of squishy fat off your belly. Your arms and legs are less toned, your butt is rounder, your chest is larger, and your love-handles are getting plump.
You have gained 33 pounds. This is clearly a noticeable gain and you are nearly overweight. The basic shape of your figure is still there, but it's bigger and softer, filling up with soft fat. As you move to touch your belly, your arms, legs, and butt start to jiggle a little. You can easily pinch a chunk of fat off your belly, which is starting to push out in front of you. Wait a minute, your jeans feel a lot tighter than before! You can feel your butt and widening hips straining against the tough denim. Good thing your shirt was a bit looser to begin with, but with your belly starting to stick out, who knows how much more your clothes can withstand. You feel small love-handles roll over the waistband of your jeans. One more pound and you'll be officially overweight.
You have gained 67 pounds. At 187lb you are overweight and practically obese. Your clothes no longer fit your expanding form: so tight, so uncomfortable. Your belly clearly goes past your jeans waistline and you can feel it pressing against the underside of your growing muffin top. As your rolls fill up with fat, you think your shirt is shrinking. You're getting bigger. Your love-handles are thick, heavy, and sensitive as your back, too, swells with fat. You feel every jiggle with every movement. Your round butt rips through the seat of your pants. Your chest is so big, you need a proper bra. Your arms have bat wings. Your swollen thighs no longer have a gap and rub together. Your groin is activated by this new sensation. Your cheeks expand into your field of view and you notice you have a double chin. You're so fat, your face is fat. You can hardly recognize yourself as your belly bursts out of your clothes...
You have gained 130 pounds. You feel so fat and heavy. As you get bigger, your skin expands, you feel everything. You've more than doubled your initial weight, putting you at a quarter of a ton. You are officially obese. Your fat face expands, your neck fills with chub. Your huge belly muffins over your painfully tight waistband and swells out of your shirt. You hear snaps and rips as your clothes attempt to contain your enormous, expanding form, ripping at the seams. You reach around your huge belly and scrabble for your jean button, but you hear a loud POP, the button tears off and you feel a release as your belly rests heavily on your groin. You grunt and moan. When you look down, you can't see anything below your massive belly. You feel every jiggle, every movement, your sensitive rolls mushrooming into each other. You're getting bigger, heavier, fatter. You feel your belly expand in your hands as you swell and fill with fat.
You have gained 279 pounds. You are now morbidly obese. Your tiny, toned figure is long gone, filled up with sensitive, jiggling, inescapable fat. You can barely walk, only waddle, your plump arms rising from your thickening sides. Soon you won't be able to reach the underside of your belly. You know if you gain much more weight you'll never get up again... But it's too late to lose most of the weight at this point anyway. You have completely exploded out of your small clothes and your constantly growing belly hangs far past the place where your pants used to be. Your arms, legs, butt, and chest have an abundance of extra fat stored on them, and your rolls weighing down with gravity. You have to sit down, panting heavily. Your huge butt and hips splay out under you and your rolls of back fat loll behind you. Your belly rests far on your lap and fat rolls bunch up. You can stick your entire finger in your belly button and heft handfuls of fat off your huge belly. Just moving takes up a lot of work and when you do, you feel your entire body jiggle and your belly sways back and forth. You don't know how much bigger you can get. You feel so incredibly heavy and fat, you feel every quivering roll, you feel your belly fattening and growing. You're filling up. Bigger. Bigger. Bigger.
You have gained 500 pounds. You are morbidly obese and immobile. Your belly has grown so huge you can barely reach all of the fat on it. You have rolls upon rolls, a wobbling vessel of fat. You feel yourself jiggle at the slightest movement and your massive belly shakes and swings back and forth with every motion. You'll definitely be facing health problems at this point, and being immobile you will not be able to exercise to lose the weight. You don't look like your former self at all and barely even resemble a normal person. You're completely transformed.
You wake up in another strange room. Wait, no… You are in your living room and you have just removed a pair of Immersive VR glasses from your eyes. Now you remember deciding to try a customized simulation to help you decide if you should gain weight, and if so, how much to gain. You look down at your body and can see your legs and your feet. You can easily stand up and walk around. None of the weight you just gained was real. You feel small, weak, fragile, vulnerable, and hungry. You immediately go to your kitchen and open the cupboards, pulling food from shelves, as you call your favorite fast food delivery.
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Stuck At Work
Reblog if you like meet-cute soft feedist romance and fat4fat. Nothing scandalous or explicit in this one, just a tale of fast food fun on the job, written in response to this request. Thanks for the ask, anon!
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She didn't mind being stuck at work with him for the night.
Tuesday nights were quiet after the dinner rush, with not many customers stopping in, either at the drive-thru or the counter. On really slow nights, like tonight, the manager sometimes had her cover both. She couldn't quite reach both the indoor cash register and the drive-thru window from the same chair, but it was just a couple of steps from one to the other, so she spent most of the downtime scrolling through her phone and sneaking glances at him.
He was busy in the kitchen, preparing burger orders as they came in and refreshing the contents of the french fryer and shake machines. He had a chair of his own that he spent most of his time in when it was just him in the kitchen, and she couldn't help admiring how deftly he moved, reaching with a calculated economy of motion to flip a burger with one hand and pull a shake with the other.
She couldn't help admiring his belly, either. Their shifts didn't overlap very often, and while they weren't the only two fat people who worked at the restaurant, they were by far the two biggest. She felt a sense of kinship with him. Kinship, but also attraction. The way his folds of fat seemed to swallow up the shirt of his regulation uniform, the way she could sometimes catch just a glimpse of belly peeking out at the bottom… the sight of him made her more than a little bit flustered, and she couldn't help imagining what he might look like with his uniform off, how deliciously big and soft he'd be if she had him in her bedroo--
Snap out of it, she thought to herself, as the intercom of the drive thru crackled and she punched in an order for a cheeseburger and two kids' meals. He'd think you were crazy if you told him about feedism. And you're not supposed to flirt at work. She sighed. Even a slow night's work kept them just busy enough that it was hard to carry on a conversation in more than snippets, and after the disaster with her last boyfriend she had gotten cautious about admitting to guys that not only did she not mind being fat, she liked it, and she liked it when they were fat too. Another lonely night at the register, she thought to herself before sneaking another glance at him. His back was turned, and she could see his enormous rolls of backfat quivering in the snug uniform shirt as he reached to dip another basket of fries in the fryer. At least I get to enjoy the eye candy.
The intercom crackled to life again. The car was definitely full of teenagers, and they were definitely drunk. Or high. Probably both. She tried to make out the names of particular value meals from the din of at least four or five voices shouting their orders, changing them halfway through, cracking up laughing for no reason, circling back around to ask for the same thing they asked for in the first place. By the time they were finished she had cued up a half-dozen burger meals with sodas, three chicken meals, two extra baskets of fries, and (thanks to a particularly loudmouthed voice who kept saying "I can't decide!" in a mock whine), a trio of extra-large thick shakes, one each of chocolate, strawberry and vanilla.
"Big order coming in, huh?" She could just hear his voice over the crackle of the fryer. Her double chins quivered as she turned her head to see him smiling. "Yup. At least it's the last one for the night. 11:59 on the dot."
"I'll get to work." He was as fast and efficient as ever, and a moment later she was hefting herself up from the chair with a grunt and stepping over to the window between the kitchen and the register where he had just placed a tray of food. Suddenly she blushed. My shirt is riding up, she thought. Gripping it with both hands, she tugged it down quickly and fiercely where it had started to expose a few inches of her own swaying lower belly. Fortunately, his back was turned again. She reached for the tray of food.
"Wait, there's more. Since we're closing up, I'll just bring the rest out to you now. That way you don't have to make two trips."
"Thanks." She took another few steps and slipped into the drive-thru booth, her hips just barely brushing the doorframe. She set down the tray and slid open the window to pass the bags out. Behind her, she heard the kitchen door open.
Suddenly, there was a sound of coughing and laughter, a deafening roar and a streak of light as the car sped past the window, a screech as it braked suddenly at the turn out of the parking lot, and a final roar as it sped off into the night.
"Damn it." She slid the window closed and turned around. "Dine and dash."
"More like drive-thru and das-- WHOA!"
She hadn't realized he was almost on top of her at the entrance to the booth. How did she not notice? He must have stepped towards her just as the engine was revving. With the same swiftness he used when he was juggling the fryer, the grill and the shake machine, he managed to drop the tray he had been holding while catching the handles of the bags that had been sitting on it. He instinctively stretched out the other hand out to steady himself, though, and it crashed straight into her shoulder, sending her spinning at an angle back into the drive-thru booth. Losing his own balance as she stumbled, he swung forwards, just barely avoiding a crash into the plexiglas window as he caught himself with his shoulder against the wall opposite the one where her back was pressed.
They were face to face and belly to belly.
"Whew." For a moment all they could do was breathe, heavy and ragged with the sudden exertion. She saw him try to take a step back, only to find that between the window and the doorframe, his ass and thighs were wedged in so tightly by the pressure of their bellies that he couldn't do it. He tried again.
"I think we're stuck." There was such a sheepish look on his face but she couldn't help laughing. And with her face just a foot or two from his -- their bellies took up a lot of space -- she was even more struck than usual by his boyishly charming eyes, his quivering triple chins, his enormous fat cheeks that dimpled as he smiled back. "What a way to end the night, huh? At least it's closing time."
"This is like something out of a fetish cartoon!" she blurted out. Oh my god. I can't believe I just said that.
"Like a what?" There was a quizzical expression on his face, but still a hint of a smile on his lips.
"I mean -- it's like something you'd see on the Internet."
"Yeah? Where on the Internet?" He laughed, and when his belly began to jiggle, hers did too. She realized suddenly that both of their shirts had ridden up, and the bottoms of their bellies were touching, skin-to-skin. Despite the embarrassment of the situation, and the further embarrassment of putting her foot in her mouth, the sudden realization was electric. It felt so good, so warm, so fat…
Snap out of it! she told herself once again. "I don't know," she said, suddenly desperate to change the subject and get out of the booth. "Places."
"Places, huh." The smile on his face was still there. "Well, talk about places. We're stuck in the drive through booth." He managed to extend an arm out to pull the curtain down over the window. Reversed from their vantage point, the letters on the opaque plastic curtain read: CLOSED.
"There you go. Now at least nobody on the Internet will see us." He grinned. "I'm not sure I can get out of here without either tearing my shirt off or giving myself a nasty scrape on that doorframe. But at least we won't starve to death." He wedged one of the bags between their bellies, opened it up, and pulled out a double cheeseburger.
She couldn't help laughing. "How can you be so relaxed? We're stuck in the booth!" Something about his tone of voice was putting her at ease, almost like he didn't mind being stuck here with her, their fat bellies pressed together as their shirts rode up. But that's silly, she thought to herself. He's just trying to calm me down.
"Well, there are worse places to be. And like I said, we're not gonna starve." He unwrapped the cheeseburger and took a bite. "Unless I get flensed by that doorframe, it's actually pretty comfy."
"Flensed?"
"Yeah. Strip my blubber off. I mean, I am kind of a whale." Seeing the sudden blush on her face, he grinned. "C'mon, I know I'm a big guy. And a big guy's gotta be able to have a sense of humor sometimes. Like when he's stuck in the drive-thru booth with the cutest girl on the entire fast food strip."
At that, she blushed even further.
"Aren't you hungry? You don't eat when you get nervous?" He popped the last of the cheeseburger into his mouth, reached into the bag, and pulled out an extra-large carton of fries. "But seriously, I've seen how you look at me sometimes. You're an FFA. It's obvious. And I'll be honest, it's hard not to look at you that way sometimes, too."
Her breath had returned to normal from the shock of crashing into him, but her heart was beating faster now. He laughed and lifted a handful of french fries to her mouth. "Here, eat! If we're stuck here forever, at least it'll be a good last meal."
The mouthful of moist, juicy fries was what finally put her fully at ease. "You're right. A good meal and good company." I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought as she reached a hand out to touch the side of his exposed belly. "I'm glad it was you and not the manager."
He smiled. "That's for sure. You know I never said anything to you because it's against HR to flirt at work, right? But so is eating the food from a dine-and-dash. And I'm pretty sure getting stuck in the booth is against the rules too. So we might as well enjoy ourselves."
"Good thing those kids ordered all three kinds of shake."
"You can say that again. If it were just vanilla I'd get bored." He winked. "Tell that one to your mysterious Internet site, big girl."
She laughed. "Okay, you got me. It's feedist stuff. How did you know?"
"I can see your phone from the kitchen. You're not supposed to be scrolling 'hashtag: fat boys' at work. But I don't mind. Do you think I got this fat by working at a fast food restaurant?" He paused for a beat. "Well, okay, I did. But doing it on purpose was the fun part."
"Mmm. Can I do this on purpose?" Squeezing his belly with both hands, she leaned in to kiss him. With her tongue already in his mouth, mingling with the lingering taste of the french fries and anticipating the milkshakes, all he could do was put a hand on her own exposed belly and squeeze back yes.
She didn't mind being stuck at work with him for the night.
#feedist fiction#mutual gain fiction#mutual gaining#mutual weight gain#soft feedism#feedist meet cute#wg fiction#weight gain fiction#wg fic#mutual feeding#fat4fat
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Lamb, Pig, It's All The Same
Alright here's more Aegon with gout fic. idk. I don't have a tag list but I am gonna tag @bucknastysbabe bc I bounced some of this off of her before it sat in my drafts for two months, and @who-told-you-this-was-butter and @khaleesihel bc they're my howl drool cream over Aegon buddies
Fem reader, Aegon being a pathetic whore but like in a fun sexy way
The gout preferred to strike at night. It would violently jerk Aegon from his slumber and have him crying out with the sudden pain, panicked thrashing hindered by both his afflicted joint and his swollen stomach-for your husband did so love to gorge himself into drowsiness, despite repeated warnings from the maesters and scoldings from his own mother.
It was Aegons gasping and crying that usually awoke you. The overwhelming panic you’d felt at the beginning of your marriage, when you’d known nothing of the crown princes illness-possibly by design, but you’d not be caught making the accusation-had been overcome in the months since the first, terrifying night. By the time the summertime warmth of your wedding had frozen into winter, you were wrapping your arms around Aegon before you were even fully awake. He always leaned into you with all of his weight, seeking the comfort you provided him like a lamb searching for its mothers shadow.
“Hush, dearheart, it’ll fade. You know it will fade soon enough.”
It was all nonsense, really, that you murmured into his hair, but your soothing words and safe embrace gave Aegon something to anchor himself to while the pain ran its violent course. Despite the constant, grating irritation that usually marked Aegons presence in a room-and that ground your nerves to dust time and time again-his cries made your heart ache. Perhaps you were simply weak for a beautiful man in distress, because you always found yourself coming to his side when he glutted himself like a prized hog then whined so pathetically for you to soothe his belly.
When Aegon sniffled against your shoulder you just couldn’t help but to coo and stroke his hair. Nevermind the tears and mucus he was no doubt spreading all over the fine Myrish lace of your nightgown, the idiot usurper-your idiot usurper-was in pain and frightened. And although it surely made you a damnably terrible person, you found Aegon to be at his sweetest when he was reeling and needy. Not completely lost in the throes of the pain, of course, but when the attack began to ease and he nuzzled against your skin, seeking warmth and comfort and kind words and rewarding you with his gorgeous lilac eyes, red rimmed and watery, turned up to you with all of the mindless trust of a newborn lamb.
The knowledge that Aegon only sought your comfort because you happened to be closer at hand than a jug of wine did little to sour how much you enjoyed peppering kisses over his fever warm cheeks-cheeks which only seemed to grow fuller and rounder time trod on, but gout was not called the ‘fat mans disease’ for nothing. The fool was nearly incapable of self soothing without something in his mouth, a fact that had perhaps led your mind towards less appropriate thoughts of a hypothetical night upon which, after the pain had faded to a more manageable ache, you’d shrug off your nightgown and offer him your breast. You were confident that Aegon would take it eagerly, after all. Doesn’t every pathetic lamb need something to nurse?
Sometimes you gave up on holding him altogether and applied a cold herbal compress to his inflamed knee. As you sat on the edge of your own marital bed and pressed the damp, sticky rags to Aegons knee and watched him writhe and cry, your thoughts always grew strange. The affection-fine, perhaps a little bit of power as well-you felt while holding and comforting your husband went quiet. In its place arose thoughts of the Queen Consort tending to her own ailing Targaryen. You didn’t enjoy these thoughts, but they came nonetheless. Perhaps these men with dragons blood in their veins were somehow prone to affliction, or perhaps it was as simple as the fact that a loyal wife and a nursemaid were very much interchangeable.
Even if you were slightly uncertain whether you’d care for Aegons pain at all if he wasn’t so beautiful and needy and helpless when it struck.
Perhaps this man, this family, this city-they all brought out the worst in you. Or perhaps you were just a little too fond of your husbands flushed face and hitching cries.
#aegon targaryen ii#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfic#aegon targaryen fic#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon ii x reader#chubby!aegon ii#my writing#alright lets go with the feedism angst#this isn't even really feedism??? idk
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House Pig
You waddle to your house, the short walk from your car to the front door has you huffing and puffing. On instinct, you turn your hips as you enter through the doorway. You aren't QUITE fat enough for it to be necessary, but you can feel yourself getting closer to that point with each passing day.
"Ah! Finally back home?", a voice calls from the kitchen. Despite the long day you've had, their soothing voice brings a smile to your face.
"*Hff...hff*...yeah, FINALLY done with work today. It was such a-", you stop mid-sentence as the delicious smell of greasy, fried food fills your nostrils. Your feeder steps out of the kitchen holding a platter, stacked up with what you can only assume is fast food from all your favorite places. They set it down on the table and turn back to you, looking at the winded state that you're in, and grin.
"Hard day? It must have been, seeing how exhausted you are...why don't you heave yourself over here, hm?", they say, leaning back on the table. You realize just how hungry you are, having been forced to go without eating for at least a couple hours...You set your things down and shuffle your way over to the table, already feeling your clothes pressed against your body. They had gotten so tight lately, and you just replaced your wardrobe maybe a month ago.
"I am...pretty hungry...", you say as you plop yourself down in the creaking chair. It had never sounded like it struggled THIS hard to hold you, but it really felt like it was straining this time as your ass overflowed the sides and your flabby belly kept you from fully sitting up to the table.
"Aww, I know you are, my greedy little thing...", they say as they step behind you and place their hands on your sides, their fingers exploring every soft roll. They lean in and kiss right where your double chin meets your neck. "Just forget all about that tough day of yours, and fill this greedy belly for me", they whispered, reaching over to fondle your immense belly.
You can't resist anymore. You deserve this after the day you had, after all. You reach out with your chubby hands and grab handfuls of the heavy, greasy food, taking the first bite. The taste is so good...the feeling of finally getting to eat overwhelms you, eyelids fluttering as you're lost in the sensation. "Mmmph...god, that's good...", you moan as you begin stuffing your face.
"That's it, baby... So good and greedy, aren't you?", they tease, tracing their finger over your bulging belly before grabbing a handful of your double belly. "Look at you. Look at how much you've fattened up since I started doting on you. So many clothes outgrown, so much more space you're taking up, it's a good look on you, being such a piggy."
You knew it was true. Every bite you took only served to make you bigger, heavier, wider. Your feeder had seen to it that you grew so incredibly out of shape, so massively obese, that hardly anyone recognized you anymore. No one at work had said anything yet, but you knew they looked at you in disbelief. You even had to get your office chair replaced to accommodate your ever-growing size. And none of this was lost on you as you continued your gluttonous feasting.
None of it felt like enough anymore. Your appetite has grown so much from the near-constant overeating that even when you're stuffed to the brim, swollen and pinned down by your own belly, you feel like you can always have a little more dessert. You ate, and ate, and ate, all the while, your feeder caressed and admired you, a marvel of self-indulgence.
"Eat all the stress and worry away, love. There's plenty more where this came from. None of those pesky wrappers or boxes to get in the way," they said, biting their lip as they noticed just how much your belly was bulging under the table and between your thighs. They give your overflowing hip a firm smack before grabbing and jiggling it, making your whole body ripple like an ocean of fat.
You're getting so full, feeling the pressure in your stomach as it stretches to hold all of the calorie-rich food you stuffed into it. Not to mention how unbearably tight your work clothes were on you at this point. The platter was almost empty, and even you were surprised when you took a second to realize just how much you had eaten. It was easily enough to feed 4 or 5 people, and NOW you're getting full?! You lean back, exhaling and placing your hands on the sides of your aching belly. It had gotten too big for you to fully reach the bottom of your belly hang.
"Hnnnh...I'm so full...and I feel so huge...", you groan as you take a look at your corpulent body. Just in time for your feeder's hand to grab your belly, their thumb in your belly button and their fingers curled under the lower roll.
"I think...", they said as they leaned in to kiss your plump cheek, "...you just need to sit somewhere more comfortable. Come on, let's get your heavy self to the bed." They take your hands and help you to your feet, both of you feeling the struggle that was getting you off the chair. You feel your whole body wobble just from this simple movement, and you can feel the weight of your body pulling down on your frame. You groan from the fullness as your feeder helps you to the bedroom, helps you remove your extremely tight work clothes, and gets you onto the nice, soft bed. Then, they turn and leave the bedroom.
"Wait, where are you…*huff*...going..?", you pant, situating yourself on the soft mattress.
"Oh I'll be right back! Just getting you dessert!", they call out from the hallway. It doesn't take them long to come back, holding what you easily recognize as a box of donuts from your favorite place. They crawl on top of the bed in front of you, nudging your cellulite-covered thighs apart as they sit themselves between them.
"Just lay back and let me take care of this part. You don't need to lift a finger, my sweet pig...", they coo, taking a glistening, glazed donut from the box and leaning forward onto your mountain of a belly. You have hardly a moment to respond before the sugary ring is placed at your lips, your feeder smiling all the while. "Go on, I know you can't resist sweets...", they say. You open your mouth and let them push bite after bite past your lips.
One by one, each donut passes from the box to your lips. It was so much...you had eaten so much, but you couldn't help yourself. It was so easy for you to give in anymore. You didn't HAVE to care about holding back, especially not with your feeder around. They had been practically relentless, always having something delicious around to stuff your face with.
"Unnnf...I can't…eat...another bite...", you whimper, laying your head back. Your swollen gut heaves with every shallow breath you take. You've gotten used to being stuffed lately, almost every single day. But never like this... You were in a hedonistic daze, fighting to stay conscious at this point, but you feel your feeder lean in, grab the sides of your chubby cheeks, and kiss you deeply.
"Mmm...good, because you've eaten all we have, you perfect hog...", they say with a chuckle. "You know, I've grown pretty fond of keeping you stuffed, spoiled, and huge. I think you could really afford to quit that job of yours, hm? You don't need all that stress. Be my full-time house pig." Despite your current state, their offer rang in your ears. Becoming a full-time, spoiled, fat pig? Not a worry in the world...only eating, being adored, and growing fatter...it sounded so alluring...
"Yes...I don't want to work anymore... Just a spoiled and overfed pig...", you manage to moan. Even admitting it sent a shiver down your spine, bringing a smile to your face as you envisioned your life as a doted-on, prize fatty.
"That's what I hoped you'd say... We'll put in your notice tomorrow. Now, lay back and start gaining all the weight from this binge, while I admire what a massive butterball you've become...", they moan as their hands explore every inch of your doughy body. A body that was only going to keep getting fatter, thicker, heavier. It felt so good...it felt so right. You could feel it. This is what you were meant to be. You slowly drift off into a food coma as your feeder kneads your body, in absolute bliss.
#feedism.#feedist.#weight gain.#gaining weight.#feedism fic.#feeder.#feedee.#house pig fic#feedism fic
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Not gonna lie, part of the allure of being fed is the feeling of being taken care of. I love it so much. Someone is there for you, to feed you, to hold you, to give you warm praise as you eat more and more for them. They're focused on you, on providing you the most pleasant experience possible, bringing you whatever you desire, and helping make room in your stomach for it. Every burp, big bite, or swallow met with encouragement and affection. You can relax, and just eat. You don't even have to think. That's what they're here for, after all.
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getting fattened up by someone unwittingly.
maybe my barista has been adding a little extra syrup or a little extra cream to my order every time i come in. i come more often as the drinks just seem to get better and better every time i have them.
my neighbour always seems to make too much of whatever they make. they bring round containers of delicious meals, insisting that no, really, you'd be doing me a favour taking this off my hands. i don't notice that their offerings get more frequent as time goes on, or that the serving sizes get larger incrementally.
my partner brings home sweet treats and snacks all the time, leaving them about the house. they indulge in them themself, of course, but it's mostly for me to graze on, unconsciously. my hand is never far from a bag of crisps or a chocolate bar. im never hungry at home anymore, thanks to my constant snacking.
and im left confused, wondering if my clothes shrunk in the wash or if im really that damn fat now. and meanwhile, my secret feeder gets to admire their handiwork as my body gets so round and soft, jiggling with every step, growing heavier and heavier with every passing day.
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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 bf is on the other side shoving me to get me in.
as the whole ordeal is done..i’m out of breath and my bf just whispers praises and degrading words into my ears.
where are we going to cause all this trouble? a buffet of course!
#then i stuff myself and we fuck hehe#but another dream..#cowey#feedee girl#fat cow#feed me#chubby#feedee encouragement#get me fatter#soft feedism#feederist#feedism erotica.#feeding kink#feederism kink#wg fic#fat#fatass#fat slob
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by popular demand: IMAGINE A FAT KNIGHT
⚠️none of this was researched! if you need historical accuracy to get off, i salute you but this is not the p0rn you're looking for⚠️
Imagine a big, beefy knight renowned for their appetite as well as their prowess in battle. Imagine them winning the royal tournament, and celebrating their victory at the feast afterwards. Imagine the way their devoted admirers and well-wishers crowd around them, laughing at their jokes, oohing and ahhing over their victory, petting their broad shoulders and muscular arms, perpetually making sure their tankard is full and their plate is piled high as they feast.
Imagine the feast stretching on into the long hours of the night, others coming and going as the champion stays at the table, still merrily gorging themself, still basking in the center of attention.
They'd taken their armor off after the tournament was completed, of course. So heavy, so uncomfortable. Who wears armor to a feast, anyways? Instead, they're clad in simple cloth trousers and a once loose-fitting shirt that's beginning to cling to their swelling belly. Their leather vest is unbuttoned, allowing them more room to breathe… and more room to eat, and eat, and eat. Which they do.
Even as the moon begins to sink in the sky, the champion is still surrounded by a handful of admirers. The feast has grown quieter as many of the revelers have stumbled happily away to sleep off all that food and drink, or to seek other pleasures. And yet still the knight's dedicated fans remain, entranced by the show of indulgence as much as by the champion's charisma. The knight rewards their loyal attentions by sharing thrilling stories of bravery and victory - at least, as much as they can speak in between hearty mouthfuls of food and deep belches.
The kitchen fires have been banked for the night, though not before a truly staggering amount of food has been carted out to the table. Roast meats, savory vegetables, candied fruits, sumptuous pies, loaves of golden bread still warm from the ovens and plenty of soft, creamy butter to slather them with. Piles of emptied plates testify to how much has already been consumed by the crowd tonight- but the largest pile sits at the end of the table where the champion is still feasting on what remains. A few of their admirers have been trying to match their pace, but the champion is the champion for a reason. By now, even their most valiant challengers have admitted defeat, slumped back into various states of stuffed stupor, belts undone, pants unlaced, protruding bellies shining in the flickering candlelight. Only the champion- and their feeders- are still going.
And even they are finally beginning to slow down. Their gut spills forward into their lap, rock hard and tight as a drum. By now, the feast hall has grown quiet enough that the gurgling of the knight's stomach is audible throughout the hall. Already, their body is hard at work digesting the massive feast, turning all that rich, heavy food into more energy for fighting, more muscle, and more fat. But it's got a lot to do.
The night has passed in such a joyous stream that the knight has no idea how much they've truly eaten- but hadn't there been a full rack of lamb in front of them earlier? And that empty dish there, hadn't that held a pie large enough to feed a family? They finish their tankard of ale, feeling it slosh down into their already overstuffed gut, and let out a belch loud enough to echo back off the hall's vaulted ceiling. By now, two of their admirers have switched to massaging their bloated belly, and the knight moans in satisfaction as their soft, dexterous hands find and soothe the tightest spots.
Eventually, they'll have to stand up from where they sit. They'll stagger to bed, perhaps assisted by one or two or three of those around them. They'll sleep off their indulgences. They'll get back to work. They'll train, they'll patrol, they'll ride bravely into danger.
And they'll certainly work up an appetite again when they do.
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