Heavily Amused

Now that your greedy tummy's finished digesting that heavy mess of calories and carbs, the real, lasting, consequences of your filthy desires cannot be passed off as "just bloating".

You're offered a one-time opportunity to choose up to 10 other people. For everything you shove down your gullet, they will suffer the same consequences as though they'd eaten it themselves

The tightness, the aches, the ever-expanding waistline, even the encroaching hunger pangs, as their appetite mysteriously grows to match your whims... all of it becomes a shared experience.

But, as a part of accepting, your body will stop visibly gaining excess fat. You'll always remain the same weight you were when you first accepted.

They won't ever find out you're the source of their rapidly ill-fitting warddrobe either, not unless you were to tell them yourself.

Yeah, I'm aware. This is a feeder blog, and I'm not allowed to have "normal" thoughts.

But, in all honesty, my affinity towards feederism is, in part, due to my fondness of women. Not even in a sexual sense, so much as a sense of gratification that stems from taking care of you, even to the extent that the aforementioned care begins to stick to your ribs.

Yes, BDSM is fun, and given my "disposition", my partners often ask to be dominated, but I honestly just do it performatively. Dominating someone who is significantly physically weaker than me feels hollow and pathetic. If my partner were to ask for a display of dominance, to remind her what I could do to her, I'm more than willing to play ball. But I find it far more fulfilling to make a girl melt for me under the weight of praise and care she'd previously thought herself undeserving of.

Maybe it was that you'd expected bruising, or rope burn, or even a little scar if we got too carried away...

But this...this is far more difficult to hide. The marking I've left on you can not so easily be obscured by a mere pair of leggings or a slightly more modest shirt.

And you know that. You can feel it; the knowing gaze of others, drawn to the poor, straining, jeans that now tightly cling to the new weight of your plush ass. The way it jiggles and sways with your gait in such a way that it never quite did before...

Or perhaps you were caught off guard, at the end of the day, when your perfectly trim tummy suddenly began to wear mean, red marks from where it was constricted beneath your waistband.