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extra-stout-stories · 2 months

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Special Delivery

As a growing gainer's mobility diminishes, his regular delivery order takes an unexpected turn. (SSBHM to USSBHM feedee, gender-unspecified fat feeder, no explicit sex. CW: Immobility, bariatric tube feeding, brief moment of dubious consent.)

Written at the suggestion of a friend, here's a special delivery of XWG and immobility/bariatric kink. I've left the gender of the feeder unspecified so that gluttons of all persuasions can enjoy it. Eat up, and reblog if you like it!

He paused to lean on the doorframe of his apartment building, huffing and puffing, before swiping his key card to open the door.

The bus stop was only about 250 yards from the entrance to his apartment, but the walk was getting more and more difficult. By the time he made it out of his apartment, down the elevator and to the bus stop, he was red-faced and sweaty, wheezing and gasping, his gigantic belly rolling and wobbling as he struggled to squeeze himself into a seat.

Fortunately, there was a bench halfway between the bus stop and the building. More and more often, he found himself stopping there for a minute or two or three, pausing to catch his breath and harvest his energy for the rest of the trip.

This wouldn't even be an effort for most people, he thought to himself. But he didn't mind.

He enjoyed it, in fact. For years he had been getting fat on purpose, watching the numbers on the scale rise as his body grew softer and heavier. Other people would be shocked if they knew, but it even secretly turned him on to know that he was getting so fat that just walking to the bus stop was becoming a struggle.

Still, the effort could be a pain sometimes. Like right now. As he passed through the door of his apartment building and into the elevator, feeling his belly quiver against his thighs and leaning against the wall to take some of the pressure off of his knees and back, all he could think about was beaching himself on the couch until it was time to stand up and walk again.

That time wasn't too far off. He had already placed the order when he was riding home on the bus. But the walk from his couch to his apartment door was just twenty feet. And at the end of that walk there would be food.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the buzzer rang. He took a deep breath, grunted, stuck his arms out for balance and began laboriously standing up from the couch, breathing heavily, pausing occasionally for an especially deep breath. The buzzer rang again. "I'm coming!" Slowly and ponderously, he waddled to the door.

He ordered from this particular fast food place all the time, but tonight there was a new delivery driver. He couldn't help noticing that they were substantially fat themselves, with thick thighs packed tightly into the pants of the driver's uniform, upper arms spilling like dough out of short sleeves, even a hint of belly peeking out from the bottom of the shirt. "Four burger meals, four milkshakes. Three chocolate lava cakes. And a two liter of Coke."

"That's me." He steadied himself on the wall by the door, then reached an arm out and took the bags, managing to slip both handles around his wrist and get a steady one-handed grip on the tray of milkshakes. "Thanks."

There was a smile on the driver's face as he shut the door.

It was getting harder and harder to reach the bus stop. He wasn't just pausing for a break on the bench any longer. Now he was stopping multiple times to lean himself against the building next to his, or on the fence that stretched the last few dozen feet from the bench to the bus stop. Then he had to climb into the bus, which was a struggle in itself, and hope that there would be a pair of side-by-side open seats at the front so that he wouldn't have to squeeze his belly in behind another pair of seats.

He found himself looking for excuses not to leave the apartment. It wasn't difficult to find them, since so many things could be done remotely now. And with the money he saved, he could afford to call a rideshare from an app instead of taking the bus. Pretty convenient.

The four burger meals were a part of his regular order rotation, and he found himself looking forward to visits from the fat delivery driver. He swapped out one of his pizza orders and started going for the burgers an additional night or two every week. Once he'd gotten in that habit, he bumped the number of burgers up to five, with an order or two of chicken wings for good measure.

As the driver handed him the last of his order, they smiled, their fat cheeks dimpling in a way he had come to recognize and appreciate. "I saw you trying to get the bus the other day."

He felt his face flush with embarrassment. "Yeah. Usually I take a rideshare, but the congestion pricing this weekend was really bad." He steadied himself on the doorframe and took a deep breath. "It's a pain in the ass trying to squeeze into those bus seats. I'm not exactly skinny."

The driver laughed. "You're a big boy. After all these burgers, who can blame you?" From someone else the words would have been hurtful, but they were said with obvious affection, and the driver was pretty fat themselves.

"Yeah, I guess I am." He grinned and patted his belly. "It's a lot of work hauling all this around. But I don't mind. I promise I'm not going to put you out of business by going on any diets."

Now it was the driver's turn to blush. "I'd miss seeing you. You're my favorite customer."

"Thanks." He hefted the bags of burgers and chicken, struggling to get a steady grip on the tray of milkshakes.

"Here, let me help you with that." The driver reached for the milkshakes, picked up the bag with the two-liter, and followed him into his apartment.

"Whew." He let out an exhausted sigh as he settled back down on the couch, feeling his quivering rolls slowly come to stillness as he sank into his favorite spot. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem." The driver was smiling again. "You know, you could put a bench there. To rest on when you're going to the door." They gestured at a spot between the living room and the bathroom door, where a bumpout for the hall closet made a natural alcove that was just deep enough to fit a bench.

"You know, that's a good idea." He grinned back at the driver. "I don't know what I would do without that bench at the bus stop."

"Or the fence. You must have been there a good five minutes before you got moving again."

He laughed. "Are you stalking me?"

"No! I was stuck in traffic. But I have to admit, I didn't mind the view. You're my favorite customer for a reason."

The driver's phone buzzed. "Shit! I have to get back on the road right now or my next delivery's gonna get cold. I'll see you soon."

As the driver hustled back to the door, he couldn't help admiring how their thick thighs and ass bounced and quivered in their snug uniform.

He took the driver up on their suggestion, and was glad he did. His burger binges, on top of all his other binges, were adding some serious weight to his body, and it was getting more and more difficult to walk. He had given up on the bus entirely. Making it downstairs to a rideshare was becoming an ordeal, even if it was pulled up right at the door of the apartment complex.

But he still didn't mind. With the bench in place, he could pause for a minute or two to catch his breath on the way to the door, and that made it not too difficult to order in. He had even put a mirror up on the wall opposite the bench so he could look at his flushed and panting face, the gigantic rolls of his thighs belly, and admire how fat he was getting. I'm so fat I can barely make it to the door, he would think to himself, and then all those hundreds on hundreds of pounds would quiver and shimmer as he shuddered with excitement.

Sometimes he'd spend so long in a reverie that the person delivering the food would get impatient, ring the doorbell again and again. That was when it wasn't his favorite driver, of course. They knew it would take him a while to answer the door. He found himself dropping the other restaurants out of his rotation, going deeper and deeper into the menu of what had become his favorite fast food place. And that driver always wore a smile.

One day they had another suggestion. "You know, it's not that expensive to get a remote door lock. You could open the door with a remote control, or with your phone." They smiled, fat cheeks dimpling, fat chins quivering. "That way I could bring the food straight to your couch."

"You'd do that for me?" He grinned. Their interactions were becoming more and more flirtatious lately. Sometimes he wondered if he should spill the beans and admit everything: that he was a gainer, that he had gotten this fat on purpose, that he looked forward to their delivery visits because he had a crush on them.

"Of course. Straight to your couch. Even straight to your bedroom, if you don't want to get up."

And sure enough, when he had the remote lock installed, they did.

It was a typical evening. He woke up from a nap to the bedroom beginning to darken as the sun began to set. He flipped on a light and pulled out his phone. Seven burger meals, six milkshakes, two family-size chicken platters… his mouth was already watering.

As usual, they came straight to his bedside, unloading the bags of food onto the bed right next to him so they would be in easy reach. But today they were rolling something in behind them as well, a large box on a handtruck.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's a special delivery." There was a look on their face he had never seen before. The dimpled smile was there, a little more mischievous than usual. But there was an intensity in their eyes now, too, a flush in their fat cheeks that was more than just exertion. "Something I've wanted to do to you for a long time."

"For a long…?" He paused, not sure how to continue. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the labored breath from each of them.

"Close your eyes." There was a sudden note of command in the driver's voice.

"Mmmmph!" Before he knew it, there was a hand on his face, roughly shoving. For a moment he felt like gagging as he felt something slip down his throat and something else shoved into his nostrils. He tried to speak, but with the tube in his throat, all he could manage was a grunt. But his meaning was clear. What the hell is going on?

The driver spoke rapidly, their voice husky and heavy. "I know. I know you're a gainer. I know you got this way on purpose. I could see it on your face. In your eyes. The way you looked at the food. The way you looked at me." They paused and took a deep breath. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing. When I'm not doing delivery for extra money, I'm a bariatric nurse. I have this all planned out."

They were in control now. "There's a lot of calories in this tube," they continued, swiftly and assuredly hooking it up to a canister of some sort and turning the valve. "Oil mixed with sugar. Pure calories. Going straight into your stomach. You're going to get fatter. A lot fatter. And quickly."

He thought for a moment about whether he should try to resist. But when he saw the look on the driver's face, he didn't want to.

It was a look of love.

And after all, he had always wanted to be fat.

His routine changed again. He no longer bothered leaving the apartment at all. No longer bothered leaving his bed at all. Just stayed in bed lounging or napping, calories flowing effortlessly down his throat. His body continued to swell. Every day, in the morning and in the evening, the driver would visit to clean him and to replenish the canister of formula. Then their fingers would trace across his body, their palms lifting his rolls, their lips and fingertips sending an electric charge through the tender hidden places in his rolls and folds. He grew and grew. Would he ever make it all the way to the bus stop again? Would he ever make it all the way to the door again? If he managed to make it to the door, would he fit though?

No, he wouldn't. He knew that. But he didn't care. He was growing bigger and bigger, fatter and fatter, softer and heavier.

And if he never left his bed again, he would still be happy.

#weight gain fiction #wg fiction #gaining weight on purpose #feedist fiction #mutual gaining #wg fic #mutual feeding #immobile #immobility #feeding kink

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tanuki-voice · 1 year

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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.

#feeding kink #feedee writing #wg fic #feederism fic #feedism fic #queer feedee

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cigarette-smoking-bird · 8 months

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The Weight Clinic

A fat man who's unsure about losing weight signs up for a very unusual treatment program led by a dominant doctor with an agenda of her own. (SSBHM feedee, SSBBW feeder, implicit XWG. CW: Dubious consent, drugs, medical and deathfeedist elements.)

This story was written swiftly in response to this ask: "A man signs up for a blind study of a weight loss drug (he doesn't want to lose weight, but you know how society is.) Unfortunately for him, it's run by a less than honest BBW scientist who decides to fatten him up instead." When I read that, I had to immediately sit down and transcribe the thunderbolt of inspiration before it passed. This could easily turn into a much longer story, and now that I've created this little fictional universe, I might come back to it some day. The dubcon is because I wanted to write a dommy mad scientist feeder, but if the story continued, our protagonist would definitely come to enjoy it and realize that she was right all along.

Please read the content warnings. If dubcon and medical/deathfeedist themes upset you, please don't click.

If you like it, on the other hand, please reblog.

He sighed inwardly as the receptionist led him past the double doors and into the medical suite of the clinic.

He didn't want to be doing this. Being fat had never bothered him. He had been fat since childhood, and as an adult he embraced the freedom of eating whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. In fact, there were times when he secretly enjoyed being fat. There was something profoundly satisfying about the way his belly was soft and heavy in his lap when he sat, the way his double chin was like a cushion when he tilted his head. Lately it seemed like he was inching closer and closer to 400 pounds whenever he stepped on the scale, and sometimes a part of him even looked forward to it.

But he was getting sick of how the rest of the world treated him. At Thanksgiving dinner, after he had gone back to the side table for a fourth helping of mashed potatoes, his parents had given him a fierce tag-team lecture about how his weight was out of control and he was overdue for a diet. Buying new clothes was getting expensive. And while the thought of 400 seemed strangely intriguing sometimes -- that's only a hundred pounds away from a quarter ton, he thought to himself -- he worried that if he got any bigger, he'd become one of those fat guys who was so big that they had trouble walking and had to use a scooter or wheelchair to get around.

There was a wheelchair in the corner of the room that the receptionist led him into. He couldn't help notice its gigantic width. "This is the suite where you'll be staying." The room looked like it was outfitted for a patient much bigger than he was. The king-sized bed was equipped with a bariatric Hoyer lift, and in addition to the usual IV bags and oxygen tanks, there were all sorts of medical machines he didn't recognize. The door to the bathroom and shower was only a few steps away from the edge of the bed, and he noticed a stainless steel railing to allow someone to steady themselves as they walked.

Noticing his expression, the receptionist continued. "You'll be staying here in the regular suite, since you don't have any serious mobility issues. Further down the hallway there's a second suite for larger patients. Both rooms will be kept operational during your stay in case there are any complications. As we discussed earlier, you'll be forbidden to leave the premises for the duration of the study. We can't have you going out to eat and breaking your diet."

He sighed inwardly again. He was already thinking of his usual Friday night meal, nachos and mozzarella sticks followed by a hamburger and fries at his favorite diner, washed down with a milkshake or two with each course. I guess I am a binge eater, he thought to himself sadly. This isn't going to be fun, but if I don't get myself under control, I really am going to end up weighing 400.

As if reading his mind, the receptionist gave a prim smile. "I hope you'll find the results of the study to be satisfactory. Dr. Moore is excited to be taking you on as a patient. Come back to the front desk with me and we'll get your paperwork finalized."

They returned to the waiting room through the double doors and he sat down on a double-wide chair to review the clipboard full of paperwork. HIPAA, check. Records release form, check. Insurance card, check.

After several more signatures, he came to the final document on the clipboard. Consent to Experimental Treatment, the header read. He skimmed through the legal verbiage, trying his best to take note of anything significant. The clinic was a private enterprise, he read. Dr. Moore had affiliations with several prestigious universities, but he waived his right to hold them liable for treatment outcomes. No guarantees were made as to results. "The Moore Clinic program is designed to help patients reach a satisfactory body weight through the application of both physiological and cognitive-emotional treatments. To ensure accurate data collection and clinical efficacy, all care will be taken by the clinic staff to prevent external influences from interfering with treatment. Patients acknowledge that for the duration of the study they will be under the exclusive supervision of Dr. Moore. Her permission will be required before patients can contact outside parties via phone or Internet."

He thought to himself for a moment. Well, I'm no good at sticking to a diet on my own. I might as well give this a shot. He signed his name on the last page of the form.

"Congratulations." The receptionist smiled as he turned over the stack of forms. "We're glad to have you here. I'm sorry Dr. Moore couldn't be here to welcome you to the first night of the study, but she had another engagement. These are our nurses, Sandra and Kevin. They'll help you get settled."

Soon he was being ushered into the hospital suite by the two nurses. Sandra was short and curvaceous, Kevin tall and stocky, and he couldn't help notice that neither of them was skinny. Both of them were chubby, in fact. Chubby verging on fat. They gave him a hospital gown and a plastic bin to store his belongings in, then drew a curtain around the bed and waited patiently while he changed.

Naked beneath the loose-fitting hospital gown, he couldn't help being aware of how fat he was as the two nurses drew the curtain aside and began to prep him for the treatment. He could feel the softness of his belly against his thighs, the subtle motion of his rolls quivering, as Kevin attached electrodes to his moobs and belly. A fold of his fat upper arm brushed against his elbow as Sandra straightened his arm and swabbed to insert an IV. I'm going to miss all this, he thought to himself. If this works, I'll be just another skinny guy in a size M. I might even have abs. And I'll probably never eat mozzarella sticks again. As the drugs in the IV began to take hold, making him woozy and disoriented and sleepy, he couldn't help wondering if waking up skinny was going to feel like a nightmare.

"Well, well. My patient has finally come to."

From the slant of the light in the hospital suite, it was late afternoon. He lay in bed, still naked beneath his hospital gown, the IV tube still in his arm, the electrodes still on his chest. Staring down at him from the foot of the bed, an appraising smile on her face, was a fat woman. A very fat woman.

She wore a crisp white coat over a snug set of scrubs that did little to conceal how gigantic she was. Her stethoscope bounced against her enormous belly as she stepped around to the bedside and lowered herself onto a double-wide chair next to the IV bags. Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and her triple chins swayed and quivered as she craned her neck slightly to take a readout from one of the machines beside the bed, then bent her head down to type some notes on a tablet.

"Welcome to the clinic. I'm Dr. Moore."

He couldn't help but be baffled by her size. A private clinic specializing in weight loss, and she was the doctor in charge? She must have read the expression on his face, because she immediately burst out laughing. "Yes, I'm really Dr. Moore. And I'm very excited to have you as my patient." She scrolled through the tablet, her eyes moving rapidly as she reviewed his case file. "You're here for morbid obesity. You say you struggle with binge eating. And you're concerned that your weight is continuing to rise."

He nodded, feeling suddenly hazy. The anesthetic had worn off, but whatever else was in the IV was still taking effect.

"Tell me." Dr. Moore's voice was suddenly stern. "Did you come here to lose weight?"

"Yes." His throat went dry as he began to speak. He realized with a start that he was dreadfully thirsty, and something in Dr. Moore's tone made him nervous. "My primary care doctor says my goal weight is 180 pounds. I've tried a couple of different diets, but nothing worked."

"One hundred and eighty pounds?" Her voice was full of disbelief. "Oh, no, no, no. That won't do at all. I'm going to write you a new prescription."

His heart was suddenly pounding. He didn't like the way she was talking to him. "I think your goal weight should be… five hundred and eighty pounds. For a start."

He tried to speak but no words came out. His throat was terribly dry. Dr. Moore turned the tablet to face him. "See? Goal weight five hundred and eighty pounds." There it was on his patient chart, as clear as day. She smiled. "I think you must be disoriented. Did you know you've been under anesthesia for four days? The treatment takes time to take effect. I'm going to get you something to drink." Without rising from her chair, she reached to open a refrigerator by the side of the bed. He had seen it during his tour and had assumed it was full of syringes and dry ice, but it was full of… cups? Giant cardboard cups with straws, the kind a fast food restaurant might use for a soda or a milkshake. She reached out and grabbed two.

"Drink. This will help settle you down." He wrapped his lips around the straw and sucked eagerly, feeling a cool, sweet, creamy liquid flow down his throat, soothing the dryness. It was a milkshake, he realized. Then he realized that he was ravenously hungry.

"Yes, that's your appetite coming back. Or rather, coming to. It never left, but you've been getting your nutrients intravenously while you were under. We call that one the 'feedbag.'" She gestured to one of the IV bags that fed into the tube leading to his wrist. In the color scheme he had already come to recognize as the Moore Clinic's branding, it was stamped with the words: "HIGH CALORIE FORMULA."

His heart was still pounding, but he was feeling more relaxed now. He heard a rustling behind him and realized that Sandra, the nurse, was busy adjusting the proportions of the IV bags.

"Yes, that's a sedative." Dr. Moore smiled. "I thought it might help put you at ease while I explain the details of my treatment program." Her voice took on a firm and didactic tone, as if she were giving a lecture to an auditorium full of med students, but underneath it he felt that he could hear something almost… flirtatious?

"The Moore Clinic takes an unorthodox approach to the treatment of obesity. As a dual-certified endocrinologist and psychiatrist, I bring a unique perspective to both the metabolic and biosocial components of extreme weight gain." She paused. "Sandra, another high-calorie bag. Thank you." As the nurse replaced the now empty bag of formula, Dr. Moore continued. "Many of my patients arrive with deeply disordered cognitive attitudes towards body weight. They are unduly susceptible to social influences, preventing their full psychological individuation as a mentally well, hedonically satisfied obese person. They regard themselves as suffering from morbid obesity instead of enjoying it." She reached out to pat his belly. "I'm afraid you're a textbook case."

He could feel himself getting hazier and hazier until the world seemed to shrink to himself, the milkshakes and Dr. Moore. He couldn't tear himself away from her gaze as she continued to speak, her triple chins and dimpled fat cheeks quivering hypnotically as her eyes seemed to pierce right into him. "This is why the use of psychotropic drugs is a key component of my program. To fully undo the traumatic effects of societal fatphobia on my patients, I must be prepared to use the entire arsenal of modern psychopharmacology."

Sandra laughed, catching a hint of the shock on his face. "It's a real cocktail in these IV bags, honey. If Dr. Moore tried to sell this stuff at a nightclub, she'd be arrested."

The doctor smiled at her nurse. "That's right. Some of these are experimental drugs, and Federally scheduled. I'm fortunate to have a license, and a substantial research grant which pays for high-grade laboratory synthesis. And the same is true for my metabolic work."

She reached out and slipped a hand under his hospital gown, grabbing ahold of the fold of one of his moobs and squeezing playfully. Even through the increasingly powerful haze of the drug cocktail, he could feel himself blushing. "The other vector of cure," she continued, "is to address the body itself. Too many patients labor under the delusion that the unfortunate medical side effects of morbid obesity are somehow a reason they must lose weight." Her voice grew stern. "Nothing could be further from the truth. Obesity is not a disease. It's a lifestyle. And it's beautiful."

"But sometimes," she continued, a frown on her face, "my patients resist. This is why I require a minimum of four weeks' supervised stay at the clinic. The setting here accustoms my patients to the possibility of living with bariatric equipment as a full-time lifestyle." He looked around the room, suddenly seeing it with new eyes. "And while my patients get used to the pace and challenges of their new lifestyle, my metabolic treatment can do its work."

Despite the sedatives, his heart was pounding faster than ever. Her words seemed to move as slowly as molasses, her chins swaying back and forth like a pendulum, as her eyes gazed into his. "There's more than just calories and party drugs in those bags, you know. There's drugs to shock your system, break down your metabolism, destroy your body's resistance to gaining ever more weight. Even if you left the clinic right now, all the diets in the world couldn't fix your metabolism. My treatment has taken you to the point of no return."

Just barely, as if fighting his way through a slowly moving fog, he managed to gasp out a single word. "When?"

"When?" Dr. Moore threw her head back in laughter, exposing a beautiful smile, her cheeks and chins quivering with mirth. "Darling, I told you -- you were under anesthesia for four days, and my treatment works quickly. It's already happened."

He tried to protest, but before he could speak another word, the fog seemed to close around him and he drifted into a deep anesthetic sleep. When he dreamed, he dreamed of being fatter than ever.

#weight gain fiction #wg fic #wg story #feedist fiction #deathfeedism #deathfeedist #mutual gaining #if she's an SSBB-MD-PhD she's a keeper

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growmydarling · 5 months

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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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jawwtin · 5 months

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Little Treat by shurbberylogistic

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

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

#my stuff #my audio #jawwtin #shrubberylogistic #wg audio #wg fic #wg fiction #wg story #weight gain audio #weight gain fiction #feedee audio #fat belly #fat admiration #feedee encouragement

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coweysworld · 7 months

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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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allfattenedup · 8 months

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⚡️ Dry Lightning ⚡️

There’s a spell that blew in on the wind tonight.

It's a curse I should have stayed away from, or the escaped fumes from a witch’s brew. Something dangerous and intoxicating, and I think I breathed it in.

I'm good, most days. I sit at home and I eat my little feasts and I chug my cream. I stand on my little scale and gasp my little gasps. Quietly. In private. But ohh... some days. To be seen, to be seen, to be seen.

It takes me like a fever, not a rational thought in my mind as I wrench open draws so desperately the coasters squeal, searching for something shameful, something provocative, something wrong. The thin fabric of a medium t-shirt slides between my fingers. I test the stretch. It hasn't fit in a long time. I wonder if it'll even go on.

There's only one way to find out.

The street is cold tonight. Mid-autumn, and the sun had left the sky hours ago. It's only under cover of darkness that I have the courage to slip from my building with a flop of new dough against the front of my jeans, hanging low like a forbidden fruit. The street's not empty. It's Friday night. That 'cover of darkness' isn't quite as full cover as I was imagining. But I don't even consider going back inside. I need it. My heart is pounding and my face is burning, and I need it.

⚡️ (keep reading) ⚡️

#weight gain #weight gain story #gaining weight #wg fic #wg story #weight gain text #wg text #readafu #male feedee #fattening up #getting fatter #bhm #exjock

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sugar-softies · 10 months

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It had all started the day Noah accidentally shrank Theo’s gym clothes in the wash.

“It’s no big deal, I’ll just skip today.” Theo stretched and yawned.

“Fuck, are you sure?” Noah bit his lip. “I could run out and get you some shorts or something from Wal-mart?”

“It’s my fault for only having the one set anyway,” Theo said. “Besides, I’ve been tired lately. Maybe this is just the rest day I needed.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Noah still looked upset with himself until Theo cupped his cheek in one hand and pulled him in to kiss his forehead.

It hadn’t seemed like much, one little mishap with the laundry and Theo deciding to take a day off. Of course, then he forgot to go buy new gym clothes the next day, and he felt like relaxing again the day after that, and the day after that, and then forgot again…

Noah would have been beating himself up if Theo didn’t seem to be enjoying his rest. His boyfriend used to spend hours keeping busy: working out at the gym, walking their dog, doing chores around the house, not to mention the insane hours he put in at his job. Most nights he’d collapse into bed exhausted, but cutting the gym out of the mix had given him a little more time to sleep in and have energy for the day.

“It’s weird having you here for dinner…” Noah chuckled as he filled Theo’s plate.

“Is it?” Theo frowned. “That… can’t feel good. I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s fine, I know you’re busy.” Noah slid into Theo’s lap and kissed his cheek. “Still nice to have you here now though.”

“I’ll try to come home a little earlier.” Noah took a bite and groaned happily. “Especially now that I know I’ve been missing out on your cooking this whole time! Did you go to culinary school in secret or something?”

Noah laughed and blushed, cuddling close and shaking his head.

As promised, Theo started cutting back on the work hours too, coming home earlier instead of sticking around to cover for others and please a demanding manager.

… then he started going in later too.

And calling out.

“Didn’t you have work today?” Noah slipped on his shoes while their excitable dog, Cakepop, jumped excitedly at the sight of his leash.

“I called out sick.” Theo paused his game to give Noah his full attention, setting the controller aside so he could open a bag of chips. “Last night was really rough and when I woke up I just didn’t really have it in me to go in. Thought I might cry honestly.”

“Oh…” Noah’s heart clenched with concern. “Well, I’m proud of you for taking care of yourself.”

“I don’t really know what I’m going to do all day,” Theo admitted. “I mean, there’s some chores to catch up on but those shouldn’t take long.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something, you always do.” Noah kissed his forehead before heading out with Cakepop.

When he came home some twenty minutes later, Theo was still gaming.

He kept gaming through lunch, and through dinner, though he didn’t miss out on Noah’s cooking since he brought the meals out to him.

Noah curled up against Theo happily with a pint of ice cream, watching him clear another level. His heart fluttered as he realized Theo had never gotten dressed today, and was still in pjs. It felt nice knowing his overworked partner had gotten to relax today.

“Dessert?” he offered, showing Theo two plastic spoons.

“Ahhh-” Theo playfully opened his mouth so he didn’t have to put his controller down, and Noah laughed and fed him a spoonful.

That’s when it really started.

Because, Noah noticed that Theo’s shirt was hugging his middle a little tighter than normal, and he’d been real careful with the laundry ever since the gym clothes incident (hey, had Theo ever gotten new gym clothes?) so he knew it hadn’t shrunk.

When he thought about it, Theo hadn’t been nearly as active as usual lately, and he’d actually been around for meals. Noah’s cheeks warmed as he realized he really liked the idea of this trend continuing, and he scooped another spoonful of ice cream and offered it to Theo.

He kept going, curious to see if Theo would ever ask him to stop, his heart pounding harder and harder as he saw more and more of the bottom of the container. Eventually he’d scraped the sides for all they were worth and Theo was leaning back with his feet on the table, his stomach obviously rounded out.

Theo burped. “Whoa, ‘scuse me. Think I overdid it on the dessert.”

“... I don’t think you did.” Noah reached out hesitantly and began to rub Theo’s stomach. “I think… you could even have a little more…”

And that brought them to today.

Noah hummed happily as he flipped another pancake onto the stack, filling up a plate and drowning it with syrup before putting it onto a breakfast tray.

Then he put the breakfast tray onto a cart that already had three similar breakfast trays on it, all of them full to the brim.

It was really well past noon, but Theo liked to sleep in. They’d both realized it pretty quickly when they started indulging his restful side. Noah had brought home some memory foam pillows and a new comforter and Theo had kissed him silly for it.

Theo was currently cuddled up to those pillows as Noah rolled in the cart, but thanks to the hot weather the blanket was pushed down by his feet, giving Noah the perfect view of Theo’s body.

What had once been toned arms were now round with dimples at the elbow and wrists, pecs had become breasts about as big as Noah’s head, near abs had become a whale of a gut that looked beautiful resting on the mattress as Theo slept on his side.

Noah bit his lip as he took a moment to admire him before grabbing a muffin and waving it under Theo’s nose.

Theo gave a bit of a snort as he woke, smiling sleepily as he recognized the smell and immediately opening his mouth.

“Good morning.” Noah fed him the muffin, marveling at how quickly it vanished. “Bed day or up day?”

“Bed day for sure,” Theo purred as he stretched luxuriously, already opening his mouth for more.

Noah giggled and took a seat on the edge of the bed, keeping the cart close so he could steadily feed Theo until every crumb was gone.

“Remember when you first got a little chubby and I called you my teddy bear?” he rubbed Theo’s swollen belly with both hands. “You’re more like one of those grizzly bears now.”

“Oh, like the ones on twitter? The fattest bear competition?” Theo laughed. “Man… that’s the life. Just worrying about getting fat and sleeping all winter…”

“You say that like that isn’t your life now,” Noah teased.

“Heh, true.” Theo started playing with his belly, admiring his fat rolls.

“Time for shake?” Noah asked excitedly.

“No time to digest even?” Theo pretended to complain.

“The more we stretch your stomach the more food you can eat later,” Noah reminded him in a sultry tone.

“Alright, guess I’ll buckle up and try then.” Theo tried to take a deep breath, his full belly already weighing heavily on his lungs.

One day, for some reason, Noah found himself making the weight gain shake first.

He wasn’t sure why he started it before breakfast, but figured he might as well give it to Theo first so he could sleep it off and wake up with more room for food. He knew that as much as he liked filling up, he also liked being able to enjoy the taste of food, and that could be hard to do when all you could think about is how full you are.

He grabbed the funnel and headed back to their bedroom, and seeing Theo asleep on the bed he suddenly remembered why he’d been so eager to do the shake first.

“Sleep feeding?” Noah laughed. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Theo chuckled. “It’s just smut, but it’s pretty hot still.”

“It is…” Noah must have been eyeing Theo hungrily because Theo grinned and nodded.

“Well, if you ever wanna try it, I do like my sleep..”

Noah eyed his boyfriend’s stomach as it rose and fell with breath. He gulped as he brought the tube over to Theo’s mouth.

He had to be careful, he didn’t want him to accidentally choke or anything, or get the bed messy. Of course, in the end, he didn’t have either of those problems, because as soon as the tube hit Theo’s mouth, Theo’s mouth clasped around it and he started sucking.

“Oh man-” Noah turned bright red, and quickly started pouring shake into the funnel.

He lost track of how many times he filled that funnel, all he knew is that Theo kept sucking it down greedily. His knees were going weak from the sight of it, and he felt honestly so happy that he was able to give his boyfriend the ultimate restful experience.

“You never have to leave this bed again, I swear,” he whimpered, which seemed to make Theo stir.

Theo’s eyelids fluttered open, and for a second there was confusion in his eyes, then a wince, then he looked over to Noah and smiled, a little bit of shake leaking from the corner of his mouth.

Theo only paused in his gulping as he rocked side to side, eventually managing to flop onto one side, and then onto his hands and knees. His stomach was pushing his arms and legs apart and weighed heavily on the bed, it was clear he was having trouble holding himself up but he still lifted a hand to grab the feeding tube and keep it in place as he started gulping shake down twice as fast.

“You’re doing such a good job,” Noah gasped out praise. “You’re going to get so big… fuck you’re going to get enormous. You already are enormous! I can’t even remember the last time you got dressed, we probably don’t even have anything that fits you anymore. Keep going.”

He went until he ran out of shake, and had to stifle a moan as Theo kept sucking hard on the tube anyway, looking like he was in a sort of trance.

It took Theo a second to realize there wasn’t anymore shake coming his way, but once he did he let his arm quickly fall to help support himself and gasped, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“God I feel like a hog,” he wheezed out around a burp. “Dunno if I can even…” he wiggled side to side again, hands and knees moving centimeters closer to the edge of the bed before his arms gave out and he simply flopped onto his belly. “Yeah, I think m’stuck here until I digest… that was so good.”

Noah immediately crawled into bed with him, excited by how little space was left for him. “You should get some more sleep,” he decided.

“Yeah? That’s really okay?” Theo yawned. “You sure you don’t need anything?”

“I need you to rest, and be ready for round two.” Noah sucked a breath in through his teeth and grabbed a rough handful of Theo’s belly. “And round three, and four, and five.”

#wg text #wg fic #wg fiction #wg story #consensual sleep feeding

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bigolbadblog · 1 year

Text

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.

#feedism.#stuffing kink #wg imagine #wg fic #18+#belly kink #qfa #stuffing story #eructophilia #musclechub

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