sub feedee

I pop a button towards the end and that gets my attention, i look around and everyone is staring at me, i look down and my entire belly is hanging out, holy shit i’m fat. but i’m still starving i need everyone to look away so i can keep eating, i look at you for help and you laugh at me. so fucking greedy I can’t stop even after all that embarrassment. A few eyes linger as i shove the rest of my food in my mouth as fast as possible so we can get out of here.

Especially if the feeder gets bolder and starts teasing to see how the feedee reacts. Slipping in words like big, heavy, greedy. Acknowledges their size. Buys way too much takeout for their date. When the feedee is full, the feeder shifts closer with one hand holding the fork to the feedees mouth and the other cupping the full curve of their belly. The feedee blushes, so embarrassed, but obediently eats.

Good puppyboys sit by the bowl until they’ve finished all their food, and a little extra. Good puppyboys know they need to eat to grow big and cuddly.

Good puppyboys don’t choose their own food. They let their owners do it. After all, their owners know how important it is to keep puppy well fed, and wouldn’t want to put that stress on him.

Good puppyboys let their owners decide what size of collar and harness they need. They don’t argue that their new collar is “too big”, because it’ll fit snugly in no time.

Good puppyboys are inside dogs - there’s no need for long walks, they aren’t good for growing pups.

Good puppyboys get told off at the vet for eating too much, but don’t listen to the vet. They listen to their owner, because their owner knows best.

Good puppyboys whimper and whine when they’re hungry, and can trust that they’ll get fed.

Good puppyboys get rewarded for their behaviour with lots of yummy treats, hand fed to them as they lounge around the house.

Good puppyboys boys don’t touch themselves until their owner says so, if reaching around their big bellies is still even possible.

Draw me like one of your French girls. I received some new pigtures of this greedy piggy. Can you imagine a girl messaging with this fatso and meeting up with him for the first time, thinking she’d meet the muscular version of him, but then seeing this obese slob. I’d stop pigging out on those burgers, you fat fuck, or you’re gonna get diabetes soon. This must be the most blubberous jiggly fat belly I’ve ever seen and it seems like he’s still growing.

Reblog if you wanna have your metabolism ruined by a gym girl

i want you bigger

i want to see how much you can eat, glut yourself, having so much you can barely move

so much that you surprise yourself

i want you insatiable, gorging and mindless, feeling how heavy you're becoming with every bite and swallow you cram in

i mean it, feel yourself

how fucking fat you are.

the way your belly curves and bends, the way your pudge gives beneath your chubby fingers. don't stop eating while you do this, keep stuffing yourself as you explore your body and what you're doing to it, to yourself, squeeze where you've grown, where you want to grow more

it's intoxicating, letting go, isn't it?

no longer holding yourself back from desire and pleasure, embracing softness and wobbling fat, edging and expanding your concept of fullness until it takes so much to satisfy you

making all those noises. can you hear yourself? the moaning, the panting, the pleased sighs, the grunting, the burps and the overfull groaning. greedy, needy sounds. all coming out shamelessly as you put more and more in

i want you to get fatter

be good, keep eating

until fullness and pleasure, just the thought of food, makes you wet and wanting and desperate

until you're spilling out of all your clothes. until they're ill-fitting, your navel indent obvious and deep. until pulling and tugging and readjusting is futile. your body barely contained by straining fabric and struggling buttons, your gaining undeniable with every riiiip and pop

i want to see the aftermath of your hedonism

you struggling to sit up. short breaths and satisfied exhales as you rub your overtaxed tummy. the only evidence of your gargantuan meal being empty containers and cleared plates. you, shocked at your uncontrollable appetite, that you ate all of this by yourself, that you're clearly so submissive to being filled and only slipping deeper into gluttony

barely able to process how turned on you are, pinned back in your seat, slapping and jiggling your fat as you get off to how tender and sensitive and fucking heavy you are

and after all that?

There is a lot to look at. Thanks to your help, I gained a considerable amount of weight recently, nearing 40 pounds. My belly rounds out in my lap and my love handles bulge at my sides. My chin plunges into a roll of fat whenever I lower my head. My thighs spread on the couch, thick and heavy. Even my upper arms feel plump as they plunge into rolls under my armpits.

I blush, feeling the hotness of your gaze. I tug at the hem of my t-shirt which rides up my belly. You are examining each of my rolls, each soft point. Self-consciously, I reach into my packet of chips, only to find it empty. I blush deeper.

"Craving another snack?" you ask, smirking.

Embarrassed, I nod, yet again feeling my new double chin forming.

You reach for a box full of donuts. You sit beside me and open it. There are six treats inside. You hover the first donut over my mouth.

"Open up," you say, knowing very well how crazy these words drive me.

I shiver. "I'm a bit too full for all of these," I mumble.

"Nonsense. You are never too full for anything these days."

I bite my lip. This is too true. I open my mouth obediently, and you shove the donut inside. It's glazed with chocolate, sickly sweet and fluffy. I gulp it down in one go. Better to start fast before my stomach realizes how full it really is.

"Another one." You take the second donut, one with colourful sprinkles. I open my mouth again and chew furiously, my cheeks bulging. The donut lands heavily in my belly.

"You're getting so nice and fat," you say, reaching for the third donut. "You're doing so very, very well."

My cheeks turn crimson. "You're taking such good care of me."

"You bet I am. Now, open wide."

Third donut, covered with icing sugar, lands inside my mouth, the sugar peppering my plump lips. I'm really starting to get full. I force a gulp.

"Another one."

"Let me..." I pant. "Let me catch my breath."

You hand me a bottle of apple juice. I drink gratefully. It's always juice, never water. Hydration is key, but I can't afford not to be consuming any calories while I do it. While I drink, I slowly massage my belly which started to hang lower between my legs.

"Okay, I'm ready," I say. You reach for the fourth donut. This one looks plain, but I know it has cream inside. It's rich, heavy. It leaves a sweet mess inside my mouth. My belly gurgles. It's getting tight now.

"Good job," you praise. "Imagine how much fatter you'll grow after today."

"Aren't I a bit too fat?" I ask timidly. "I mean, I technically just became obese..."

You click your tongue. "Silly you. These are made-up categories. You could be so much fatter, my dumpling. Open up."

It's the fifth donut. Sticky and sweet jelly is stuffed inside it, and I take my time with chewing it. My t-shirt now completely exposes my bloated belly. I groan slightly as I swallow.

"Just one more," you say, but it doesn't fool me. The last donut is an everything: it has chocolate, sprinkles, and cream inside. A caloric bomb. A good conclusion to the feast.

How many calories have I even consumed today? 5,000? 6,000? Lately, I stopped counting. You do it for me, anyway.

You trace your fingers over my belly, and I whimper. Your hand lands on the hem of my pants, buried somewhere under my belly. You tug at it.

"Are these getting snug?" you ask.

"Yeah," I breathe out. "I've been only wearing them... huff... for three months."

You smile so sweetly that I know I'm in trouble. "Am I right in thinking that if you outgrow them, you'll have to find a special plus size store?"

I nod again, embarrassed and so, so turned on. "Yeah. They don't make them larger than 2XL."

"Well then," you say, "why don't you eat the last donut."

I open my mouth. The triple sweetness assaults my senses. Painfully slowly, I chew and gulp it down. My belly surges forward. You immediately give it your attention, massaging and provoking burps from me, easing up my discomfort. God, I ate so much. I'm so full. So full, fat, and heavy.

You hover over me. Your next words, you whisper right into my ear.

"I'm going to order some takeout. I want these pants outgrown by the end of the week."