- Late 20s, Black/mixed, transmasc. My gender is fag and my sexuality is equal opportunity slut. Partnered and poly.
- Long time lurker, got on t and got interested in gaining weight.
Kink List
- primary:
🫀 Feedism
🫀 stuffing
🫀 wg
🫀 pet play 🐶
🫀 emeto
(from stuffing/overeating only)
- Others:
objectification, rope bondage, pain/sensation play, mommy/daddy/little play (way more into the caretaking dynamic than the age play element), some cnc. Rn, Mommy is my gf and I’m not looking for others. Accepting applications for daddies of all genders though, I just need to get to know you a bit before I wanna play in that space!
✨ ask box and dms are open! t4t feedists I especially wanna hear from you ✨
Hard Dislikes and Limits:
- immobility, death, long-term loss of independence
- Medicalizing language/play
- Race play (including slave-master/mistress dynamics)
- Discussion of exact weight numbers
- Intense degradation (light humiliation and teasing are great though!)
If there’s anything you don’t see here and are wondering about, ask me about it!
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what's in this: A woman with a lactation kink finally finds a man as into it as she is, and the two discover a new shared kink for milk-induced weight gain together.
also available on deviantart and ao3.
He was so full by the end of our first session. It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. He was so skinny, and his belly was completely bowed out and just a little red, skin gone shiny. Every time he moved even a little, you could hear it all sloshing inside him. “Look at you!” I gave his belly a poke and he groaned. “Someone was feeling greedy, huh?”
Not that I minded. I like greedy. It’s kind of my whole thing. I like milk-drunk, too, and he was certainly that. It was right after I upped my hormone regimen to increase my milk production, and our date was kind of an experiment. A kink like this kinda limits your dating pool, but thankfully there’s always a man with an empty belly and no shame. He wasn’t the first to drink from me, but he was the first to be able to drink so much all in one go. I’d never made someone so round before.
I really liked it.
He liked it just as much, if not more. His cock was straining up toward the curve of his bloated little tummy, begging for attention. I straddled him, humming with pleasure as I guided him inside me. He tried so hard to thrust, but I pushed him back down, hand resting on his flat chest to keep him still. I wasn’t about to have him burning calories when I was happy to do all the work. He practically melted into the pillows once he realized he could just lie there with a belly full of milk sloshing over him—something I knew he’d fantasized about a hundred times.
By the time I got what I wanted, he could barely walk. I had to help the poor man get dressed to get him out the door. He looked precious trying to tug his t-shirt over that evening’s bloat.
I saw him a second time just a couple nights later. He showed up looking downright starved, so of course I had to fix him. Thirty minutes later, he looked even bigger than our first night. “I don’t know where you’re putting it all.” I traced the solid curve of him with a fingernail, leaving behind a faint mark that faded as he shivered.
“I don’t, either,” he managed. Poor thing got the hiccups after that, and I got to rub that little ball belly and help him digest. We didn’t do much else that night because he’d really overdone it, but I wasn’t about to complain about getting to see someone huffing and puffing because they’d been too much of a glutton to pull themselves away from me.
I was surprised when he asked if we could see each other more regularly. Usually I didn’t see anyone for more than a few dates. The novelty of living out the particular fantasy they all had of fucking the MILFiest non-mother to walk the earth, who also happened to have a lactation kink and tits bigger than their head, would wear off and they’d move on. Which was just fine with me. Part of what I liked about the whole thing was counting up just how many hungry bellies I’d filled.
But this one? He was like a bottomless pit. Always begging for more. I’d never been with someone exclusively before—not once I’d really gotten going with this kink. I was too much for one person, or so I’d thought.
He would take every opportunity to drink from me until he was nearly ready to burst. Any kink play has that pleasant illicit flavor to it, but our time together felt even more so. In the middle of the day on a Tuesday, he’d call me in the middle of his work day and ask if we could meet somewhere. “What, you’re going to waddle into work after I stuff you full of ‘lunch’?” I laughed the first time he said it. I assumed there was no way he was serious—that he just wanted to flirt over the phone.
“Yes.” His answer was simple and threw me off a little. He teased me like I usually teased him. “I want to walk back inside looking twice the size I was when I went to lunch. I want to sit in a meeting trying not to burp, shirt buttons gapped over my belly, too full to feel embarrassed even though I really should be. I want to show up looking disheveled and fuck-drunk and like I’m about to pop.”
It was easy to give him exactly what he asked for when he knew just the right words to say.
Seeing him go from skinny with a concave little stomach to massively bloated and still begging for more every time we saw each other was addicting. The rare days when we didn’t see each other felt agonizingly long. Even so, I worried a little that I might get bored. How many times could we do the same thing and still have it be fun?
How lucky, then, that all those feeding sessions started to stick to him. I pointed it out as soon as I noticed one night when he was staying over, pinching at the little extra bit of fat that I noticed on his hips. “Oooh, what’s this?”
He was so embarrassed by it, certain that I was pointing it out because I didn’t like it. He stammered that he could start dieting if I wanted him to, or work out so his body didn’t change.
“Don’t you dare!” I half-joked, already salivating at the possibilities that little bit of puppy fat hinted at. “Unless you really want to. Do you want to?”
He blushed deeply, squirming like I was prodding at his deepest, darkest secrets. He mumbled something, and I felt my face splitting into a grin I’m sure was absolutely unbearable.
“What was that?” I dug a finger into his tummy.
“I want to get fatter,” he whispered, just a little louder. “I want you to… fatten me up.”
The prospect was intriguing. I’d always chased the high of seeing a partner sloshy-full with a purely liquid bloat. Somehow, weight gain as a consequence of that had never occurred to me, let alone that weight gain could have a similar appeal.
“Tell me more.”
And he did—with some difficulty, because of course I couldn’t resist making him come while he talked about how badly he wanted to turn into something soft and sweet, a plump little muffin with a belly to grab and shamefully wide hips. As the words poured out of him between whimpers and whines, his greedy, seemingly boundless appetite made much more sense to me. This was what he’d really wanted all along: to glut himself not only for the sake of it, but to render himself plush and soft and squeezable.
Once his secret was finally out, it was almost like he had more room to stuff himself. On the mornings after he stayed the night, we’d start with a long feeding session. A few times a week, he’d get puffed full of creamy, fattening liquid lunch. In the evenings, he would test his limits, drinking until nothing else would fit inside him, until he was so full he couldn’t form words.
He blossomed and swelled, so much faster than I ever would’ve imagined. It seemed like every week I could see him change: a skinny stomach blooming into a little pooch, then a tummy, then a gut, and eventually a belly that overflowed my hands, lusciously soft to hold even when he’d drunk me completely dry and left himself reeling and impossibly full.
I think it helped that I started treating him to other things—all with a secret special ingredient, of course—that he could bring to work for lunch or enjoy at home: decadent savory pies with a creamy roux filling, thick sandwiches on homemade milk bread, cookies and muffins and pastries to snack on. Watching him fill out was a grand pleasure, and every new pound left me eager for more.
Now, it’s almost funny to remember him as he was that first night: bony and hungry and so very eager, a full belly an alien thing on his slight frame. Such a marked difference from the consummate glutton I know so well. He’s unrecognizable these days, body marked by indolence and his indulgent diet, rolls swelling outward, soft as the milk that made them, just the way he always wanted.
I’m so high rn but need a cute fat guy who gets fat and also starts to randomly lactate one day. I, being a pervert, decide to suck his tits dry, causing me to gain a ton of weight. Then! Because I’m high and this is a fucked up fantasy link scenario, turns out all the weight he’s made me gain, gets added to him whenever I cum inside him. Haha that would be so crazy to go in circles like that.
Cumflation is the best. And cum that makes you fat? Even better. Imagine getting filled from both ends and just getting sooooo big and bloated and fat <33 Once all that cum settles in your body it goes right to your fat deposits and gets you even softer and rounder.
-👽
See now you're talking. Some kind of creamy shake being funneled in up top and cum pumping into me down below? Fuck, I'd be so obscenely round by the end of the session, such a big balloon before it all settles into soft new fat 🤤
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i wish i could be a fatty little house puppy stuffing myself with treats all day and constantly gaining weight , being teased for fattening up so much but it’s not my fault … i barely move around and there’s so many snacks around the house of course i’d gain a few pounds
not even being able to hide my weight gain because all of my clothes get too small for me in such a short amount of time that i can’t even hide my belly and i’m left with no choice but to wear the small outfits and deal with the embarrassment of having my fat swollen tummy pressed up against a shirt that used to fit not too long before…
stuffing you past your limits and then demanding you fuck me when you’re still way too full, so you’re resorted to grinding on my leg like a pathetic, needy animal while I’m able to grope and squeeze your heavy, swollen belly however I want
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you know when you fuck a fat girl in missionary with their legs folded back or in a mating press and their tummy is perfectly framed between their thick thighs and fat cunt and bouncing tits, just begging to be groped and filled with cum... hottest shit in the world
I love a put-together fat man with good street style. A leather watch wrapped around his chubby wrist, sausage fingers stacked with rings, maybe a chain or two decorating the collar of lard around his neck. Strong cologne that’s woody and addictive, so when I wear his shirts as nightgowns I’m bundled in his scent. Funky patterned button-ups straining across his stomach, layered textures hugging every curve. Hair in perfect waves, clean shaven, shoes polished. A walking (or waddling) thirst trap.
Until I get him home.
Until all that style is in a heap on my floor and he’s naked, flushed, and gasping for air between mouthfuls. Stuffing his face like he hasn’t eaten in days. Sauce on his chin, cream dribbling down the curve of his belly and settling into his rolls. Moaning through every greasy bite. His body jiggling with constant guttural belches he doesn’t even try to suppress. Rubbing his poor gut with cheese-dust covered fingers just so he can make room for more slop. Sweaty and sticky and gassy, a picture of pure hedonism.
I was going out with some friends for the night. I like to be there early and today I got there a little earlier than expected. So I sit in Five Guys and order myself lunch. Double Bacon Cheeseburger with medium fries. Had my own drink with me. Afterward I got a text telling me that a friend was close by and so we met at the bakery... where I got myself a donut because I still felt a little hungry. Soon after, the rest of our friends made their way to us and our night could begin... but first... more food.
Our nights start out a bar next to the bakery, where we always order food and drinks before going to the better bars in town. Was I sensible and say "I already ate." or did I say "I already ate but I could go for more." I think you know the answer. I ordered myself another burger and fries, feeling the full tautness of my gut straining against my belt and shirt. When finished with my meal, do you think I stopped? My friend couldn't finish their fries so I helped them out. Standing up from that chair was a struggle, my belly sliding up the edge of the table as it swells with food and soda.
On our way to the next bar, we stop at McDonalds. This was just a light visit, just a simple large fries for this fatty. I began to think "What's happening? Normally I'm able to help myself in public. I don't usually stuff myself to the brim unless you've taken me to a buffet or something..." but those thoughts were quelled by the soft crunch of the fries in my mouth. I could feel my belly getting tighter, my belt straining to hold back the avalanche of fat behind it. My cock was throbbing by this point but I had to control myself at least somewhat.
At this bar they didn't serve food, only drinks. I decided to get myself a large glass of coke... and then another... and another... one more? By the end of that visit I had 5 large pints of coke sitting in my gut, gurgling loudly and shaking with burps. I could barely take a step without looking like a total cow. People were staring at me as I kept getting more glasses and my belly bloated up, making my shirt ride up my torso and show a sliver of my underbelly for all to see.
After that bar, we went to a large arcade!.. Which served food. After a few games I needed another burger. I didn't actually need one. My gut was painfully full by now. But something inside me was shouting at me to keep eating. Not to mention the thought of you seeing how much a fatty I am that I couldn't help myself encouraged me further. So I ate another burger, my free hand fidgeting with my belt buckle, trying so hard to pull and give myself some room but not undo it.
Overstuffed and effectively cow brained, we walk past McDonalds again, to help the drunk friends of our group get some food in them... Do I do the sensible thing? Of course I don't. I'm too far gone. I need more. I waddle in with them and get 20 nuggets. Fuck I feel huge. I couldn't wait to get home and just get out of these clothes and cum about it. It's all that was on my mind at this point. It was pretty late so you were likely asleep, but I hoped to come home to you fully awake, wondering where I am, and seeing me fattened up and ready to be fucked senseless.
I tell my friends I need to get a taxi home, I feel "Sick" when in reality I am throbbing and stuffed to the brim. The driver assumed I was drunk given my waddling state, struggling to stand straight and keep my hands off my belly. I use this as an excuse to let some burps out while in the back of the car and finally groan. It felt so good to make noise, to just let myself go in front of this stranger because of their assumptions. When finally getting home I need to brace myself on the side of the door and the roof of the car to pull my fat ass out.
I loudly enter the home, belching and moaning even louder now. Most would go to bed at this point, but my fat ass remembered something... There was a celebration today, one that involved cake in this house. And you told me you'd leave me a slice. I wobble into the kitchen, my sides hitting the door frame as I jiggle. I couldn't help myself. There was a third of a whole cake left, there was so much food resting in my fat belly already but... it looks so delicious! That cake didn't stand a chance with my fat ass around.
Eventually, I do make it upstairs. You sitting in the room with a feast of food ready to stuff me fat, but you didn't expect me to come home overstuffed. "Oh wow! Someone couldn't help themselves could they!" You smirk. "Undress fatty. You must be so uncomfortable!" I nod my head and finally unbuckle my belt and remove my pants, moaning in delight as my waist and thighs bulge free and my cock is no longer pressed down by the tightness of my jeans. Soon followed by my shirt, my full fatness of display for you to admire. "I made all this food for you... but it seems like you're already... indulged for the night." You giggle as you pull me toward the bed, pushing me down, causing me to burp. "Well... no worries, I still have an idea."
You sit yourself on my fat pad and place the large tray of treats on my taut belly, while handing me a funnel to put in my mouth. I knew the routine and place it in. "Good boy!" You whisper. You begin to pour as much cream as the funnel will hold while indulging yourself in the snacks you had prepared for me. Now we lay in bed, fattening ourselves up and getting off. As you grind you pussy on my fat pad, I can feel your underbelly scrape along my own, you're getting plump, and fuck does it make me horny. I'm living my best life. I couldn't wait for us both to get plumper.
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two best friends who help each other gain weight <3
having little study dates where they pick up each others favorite snacks and spend the night studying and stuffing, until they're full and too sleepy to continue reading
going shopping together and teasing each other when they try on an outfit that just isn't going to fit, but still trying to make it work anyways. having to help each other button up tight jeans or tuck in shirts, pull up stubborn skirts or unforgiving button-ups.
sending each other pictures of their meals just to make one another jealous over how many calories they're about to eat, and how much bigger they're gonna get than the other one.
having little competitions on who is going to gain more weight that month, whoever loses has to buy them a big dinner to commemorate the occasion. helping each other finish off the giant meal, and laughing at each other as they struggle to pull their stuffed selves out of the seats and back to their car
