๐ค Hi I'm Sam, I'm a small fat 33-year-old queer fat admirer and fetishist into soft feedism & weight gain.
๐ค I'm married in a closed relationship but DMs are okay for non-kinky chat :)
๐ค I also write fanfiction and original stories over at kinkratonthestreets on AO3 (most stories locked for AO3 users only due to AI scraping concerns โน๏ธ)
๐ค Fat liberation is an essential component to feedism and fat-related fetishes and is a frequent topic on here as well
Fave kinks that might pop up on here more often: soft dom feedee/sub feeder dynamics, chubby/fat to fatter weight gain kink, soft feedism, weight gain encouragement
๐ซ No minors. Minors and blogs without your age or a link to a verified OF account in your bio or pinned post will be blocked.
๐ซ ED blogs go away, I block and report ๐โ๏ธ
I abandoned my tagging system to be honest, but for my older posts, my most common tags are below โฌ๏ธ
(I usually remember to tag off-topic posts as "not the usual", liveblogging my writing process as "quiet-writing", and harder dom/sub or pain play topics as "not soft" if you want to blacklist those tags to hide the posts from your dash.)
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He's standing on the scale again, the thick slab of his fat belly and sides wobbling with his labored breaths as he leans forward enough to read the number. His mouth scrunches a little. Dissatisfaction atop his oversatisfied body.
"What is it?" his feeder asks, coming up behind him and resting a comforting hand on the shelf of fat made up by his love handles. "360! Oh my god, that's great! See, I told you those shakes were making a difference, that's up twelve pounds from last month."
"It'sโฆ not enough."
"Look, you've been literally drinking down as many liquid calories as you can. Every day. Three pounds a week is a lot! I know you want to be bigger, it's justโ"
"I don't just want to be bigger," he says, his hands running soothing, longing lines along the stripes formed on his belly where the skin is already struggling to stretch over the fat being packed on, pound by pound. "I need to be bigger. So much bigger."
"We can try adding more fat. Cooking things in butter and maybe fitting another shake in before bed? I know you don't sleep as well on a full stomach, butโฆ"
"It just won't be enough," he says, more than a little crestfallen. In the last half-year, he packed on sixty pounds. Ten additional pounds of fat was finding its way onto his body every month. His belly had widened and spilled out at his sides, started hanging lower and pushing out rounder against his shirts. His chest and face were fuller, swollen with fat.
But he needed more. And his feeder knew it.
"There is one thing we could try," his feeder says. His attention perks up immediately. "You remember my college roommate, the one that does that food science stuff? There'sโฆ something sort of experimental. But it's supposed to be pretty reliableโฆ"
Not even a full second lingered before he could blurt out, "Yes. Please!"
His feeder goes into the kitchen and brings back a vial of liquid. He looks skeptical. "What is that some magic thing to make me gain a hundred pounds in an instant? Something out of one of those stories to blow me up?" he snorts.
"No, but itโฆ you'll gain a pound a day. Every day that we add this into your food, if you really fill yourself with enough food, it's a metabolicโit doesn't matter, but you'll gain a pound a day with this. Should we try it out?"
He grabs one of his softened pints of ice cream from the counter, peeling off the lid and offering it to his feeder to as a vessel for the compound. "A pound a day, huh? Let's try it out."
True to the claim, when he stepped onto the scale the next day, he was exactly 361 pounds. This one pound felt more exciting than any of the previous sixty; it felt like it came with a near-certain promise of more. The compound made the shake sit heavier in his belly than normal, like his belly was somehow needing to stretch a little more into discomfort to accommodate that one single drop, but the next day brought another pound. And another the day after.
For the first week, he had fun searching for the extra pound on his body with his feeder.
"I think it was a tits pound yesterday, I can feel it," he laughs, waking up bloated on the seventh day and taking the blender into his hands to chug down the new day's shake, giggling through his greedy gulps as his feeder gropes at his swollen chest.
The first month brought thirty pounds as expected, bringing him to a heavy 390. His belly was rounder, his sides were thicker, his rolls and thighs visibly puffier with the as his body tried to allocate the weight around somewhat evenly. He was laying on the couch, his hands jostling his extra fat around, feeling for himself how much more of his belly rested against his widening thighs when his feeder brought the shake in.
"Are you sure we can't try more than a drop? It feels so good being able to tell I'm getting fatter like thisโฆ" he asks.
"If we pour the whole thing in, you'll still just gain a pound today, and then we'll be out," his feeder assures him, taking his belly in their hands and coaxing his mouth open to chug down his shake, watching as the creases on his neck bulge with his every swallow. His arms rested more against the swollen bulges of fat at his sides than against his torso. New, pink stretch marks were dappling his skin everywhere from his lower belly to his arms.
"What if I ate more?" he pleads, kneading his doughy fat with such intensity that it seemed he was expecting it to rise.
"I could spoonfeed you the most fattening thing you have in the kitchen, but you'd still gain a pound a day."
Grumbling a little, his plump face in a cute, eager pout, he goes back to tipping the blender against his mouth, making sure every drop slides down his throat.
By the end of the second month, things weren't fitting him well. His underwear waistbands had gotten tight, shirts clung to the roundness of his middle belly and let the bottom hang free. The warmth of the summer demanded shorts, but his thighs could barely squeeze into his biggest pair. His feeder shifted his wardrobe, everything elastic and forgiving and oversized as they continued dropping a pound per day into his swelling form. The 400 milestone had come and gone, the next day's pound always spurring him on.
"You could just not wear anything, you know," his feeder teasees, folding all of the once-oversized shirts that were now frayed and torn at the seams where his fattest parts strained them.
"I'd bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he grins, lifting handfuls of his belly fat to show that there wasn't much exposed at all beneath it, given how much his thighs pressed together and his underbelly sat heavy against them. His feeder's hands admired and soothed every inch of his swelling body.
"At this rate, you'll be too big for anything in your closet next month," his feeder smirks, always wanting more of him.
Halfway through the fourth month, he was starting to feel the extra weight adding up. He was breathless, panting and red in the face from carrying groceries from the car. The exertion needed to move his body these short distances was proving enticing to both of them; it didn't take long for him to be breathless and panting on the couch for entirely different reasons.
His feeder was straddling his lap, pressing against the mass of his belly, with their thumb on his chin to guide it open for his daily shake.
"It's not getting to be too much? A hundred extra pounds isn't enough for my big guy yet?" his feeder asks, dangling the first drops of shake at the blender's edge.
"More. I can take it. I want it. Please," he says, that same eagerness from when he was a meager 360 pounds holding steady in his voice and on his face, "please make me even fatter."
As he gained, every day felt like another opportunity to feel the excessive weight affecting his body in new ways. He felt huge, and knew he'd get even bigger the next day. The next week. The next month.
His feeder started to take care of some of the little things: tying his shoes; holding the blender up so his heavy arms wouldn't get tired during his daily shake; lifting his deliciously-inconvenient rolls out of the way when their mutual affection for his body demanded reaching and spreading to reward his indulgence with even more pleasure. The almost-anxious need he'd felt to push himself to grow and grow at any cost was softened into a blissful relishing of how much of his day was filled with thoughts and sensations of food and his own fat.
Five-hundred pounds seemed like a good point to reevaluate. The number seemed so far off, until it wasn't. His weight climbed by a pound a day, but the sheer size of his body was reaching the point where even a couple weeks' worth of pounds seemed to be lost in the swollen, blob-like mass of his belly or the spreading rolls of soft fat on his sides and thighs. Spaces around his body were closing rapidly: his chin brushed his chest; his side rolls folded onto his butt; his thighs pushed each other apart until his belly was resting on the couch, demanding more and more space.
The shake with the compound would earn him his pound, but he was finding more and more that his love for the immense amounts of food he could eat was retuning. Why, after all, if he was going to gain a pound anyways, wouldn't he want to cram himself full of as many sweet, greasy calories as his growing stomach could accommodate? His feeder delighted in feeding him as much as he could handle.
"You know, five-hundred pounds was last week," his feeder says, tracing small circles on his immense belly as they dipped a spoon to scoop another mouthful of ice cream-soaked cookies into his mouth.
"Really?" he says, shifting a little, his weight making the couch groan, the distance imposed by his belly between him and his feeder making his mind tingle. "How do you know? I haven't made it onto the scale recentlyโฆ"
"Because I can count," his feeder says. "The number is practically tattooed on my brain, then I add one to it first thing in the morning. Plus, these are unmistakably the tits of a five-hundred pound guy," they add, lifting and letting his swollen roll of a moob flop onto his belly. "You're 506 pounds, in case you were wondering."
"Mmmm say the number again?" he says, breathing heavily as he struggled to lean forward against his own bulk for his mouth to meet the next bite.
"Five-hundred," his feeder says, tipping the shake into his mouth, listening to his growing moans as the shake filled him and his feeder's hands pressed against the bloat. "Six pounds."
Six-hundred, he admits to his feeder, was really the number he wanted to experience. Big enough that he could retain some shreds of independence and mobility, but enormous enough to struggle a little. The colder winter months were designed for him to lounge on the couch, his body swelling to take up the tiniest bit more of it each day. The warmth of blankets, baked goods, his feeder's touch, and his own soft fat keeping him happy and growing.
He didn't need the scale anymore. His feeder would write the new number on a small dry erase board on the other side of the room so he could see it ticking up. 525. 526. 527. He wondered when he would feel it again. When he would have one of those oh shit moments about how much bigger he'd gotten. But the couch's support and his feeder's care kept him growing with ease. 541. 542. 543. The holidays arrived, with many extra treats for the big guy.
Tracking his weight wasn't enough. His feeder documented the spread of his hips, the size of his arms, the weight of his moobs. He became obsessed with finding new ways to quantify his fatness, eating his way through more and more of his day, most pleased with himself when his jowls were wobbling against his chest fold mid-chew.
The food was the work and the food was the reward.
The compound upheld its part and he continued his growth into spring as the impossibly-big 600 pound milestone loomed.
The weather warmed and with his feeder's help he emerged into the blooming yard at 598 pounds, not daring to sit on any furniture that couldn't handle his weight, feeling the warm rays of sun hitting all of the new fat that had accumulated on him since hunkering down for such a cozy, caloric winter.
"There's not that much left," his feeder warns. He looks up, face smeared with frosting as he eats his "happy 600 pounds" cake by the handful. The vial had a little less than a quarter left. "I should've known you weren't going to spread this out."
He grins. "I am spreading out," he says, leaning back on the couch and letting his fat splay outwards towards the arms, hardly any room for his dedicated feeder to join him to sit without being on or tucking under his bulk.
"What ifโฆ we just used it up," he suggests. He was heavy, very heavy, but he could still manage to move. He'd get some more movement in. The depth of his belly threatened to spill past his knees when he sat, the fat folding into thick, biteable rolls for his feeder to admire and attend to.
"You know I can't say no to you," his feeder says, their mouth locking onto their favorite roll on his neck as their hands interlaced with his and they made a meal of feeding him his shake.
The days passed more quickly now, though he moved less and less. He would accept some help heaving himself up from the couch to take few wobbling, breathless steps to the other side of the room. He spent hours with his hands running across the vastness of his own fat, knowing each day and each shake meant one more pound and one fewer day remaining that he could unwaveringly count on growth.
His hips and thighs reached the sides of the couch at 640. For fun, he showed his feeder how he'd outgrown the entryway to their kitchen by 650. "I guess it's really up to you if I get fatter now, I literally can't get to the blender" he says. His feeder only grins in return and lifts the shake to his lips again, utterly devoted.
Soon he shifted to counting down the pounds he had left to gain before the vial ran out. He estimated 30 left. Then 20. Ten, probably. Was it the 697 that mattered more or the ten?
Everything about his body drove him wild. Every dimple. Every fold. Every spot his feeder touch felt electrically charged by the swelling fat expanding his area of perception. His feeder spared no teasing detail about how utterly cumbersome his body had become to navigate and the intensity of their shared pleasure at those inconveniences grew together, too.
The last drop made its way into his shake one morning, topping him out at 714 pounds. His body was enormously fat, every part of him overflowing with soft, heavy flab that cocooned him and his feeder in their embraces together.
"I'm so, so hugeโฆ" he hasps, like an exhalation from the unrelenting journey he'd taken over the last year. His soft arms rested against his front, chubby fingers kneading constantly on his belly as though he needed to physically verify the weight was still there.
"Does it feel like you'd hoped?" his feeder asks.
"Better," he admits, taking the time to feel how the weight encumbered his limbs and begged him to stay as sedentary as he and his feeder would allow. "I can't believe we used it all."
"I can," his feeder says, warmly, their hand patting the middle of his belly to ripple out across the few hundred extra pounds caked onto his increasingly-shapeless body.
"I guess this is it thenโฆ" he says, with a sigh. His eyes and hands moving along every inch of his body they could reach, trying to soak in the feeling of being this big, knowing the compound-assisted gravy train had come to an end. His feeder's hands wrapped around him, sinking into the mass of his body.
"What if youโฆ maintained," his feeder suggests.
"You meanโฆ stay this big?" he asks, turning over his hands to survey his arms, thinking about the potential of carrying around this weight for more time.
"Yeah," his feeder says. "It'll take a lot of eating, but I think you might just be ready for that," they said, playfully squeezing the bulk of his cheeks. "You might need to really pile on the sweets and stuff to keep the weight on, but what's a few extra desserts a day when you're seven-hundred gorgeous pounds?"
"Feed me as much as you want, being this big I don't ever need to gain another pound," he says, moving his hips to entice his feeder to return quickly with his vanilla shake, grateful for everything the compound had given him and determined with his feeder's help to sustain all the weight he'd grown during the year.
Every single pound felt like the most important one he'd gained.
~
this one goes out to the ever-inspiring @stonednsoft, whose greed for his next pound is unmatched :)
I know Iโve wonโt shut up about meta topics in feedism, but I need to get this off of my chest:
CPAP machines donโt deliver extra oxygen.
I understand the allure. โOohh, this person got so fat that they need a CPAP!โ Sure. I use a CPAP. Theyโre incredibly helpful for treating sleep apnea. Butโฆ they do nothing if youโre awake. So when I see someone wearing a CPAP and eatingโฆ itโs confusing.
I get that some people love seeing gainers need to be put on oxygen. Sure. But itโs important to me for people to know that a CPAP literally just pushes the air in the room down your throat. Thatโs it. Aside from slight humidification, itโs just normal air.
Some of the rhetoric regarding CPAP machines is very telling that people donโt know what the hell it does or what it signifies. Iโve seen creators wear it saying that they โcan eat so much more nowโ. Nope. No you canโt. Iโve seen people put it on claiming they canโt breathe well without it. If thatโs true (which it could be), then there are deeper lung or central nervous system problems, which arenโt really connected to obesity. These problems are more like โI canโt take a full breathโ, so the positive air pressure is helpful.
I guess what my problem is at the end of the day is a trivialization of medical problems and other things that come along with obesity. Itโs the same reason that I get ticked whenever I see someone with a single-digit bmi who recently gained 10lbs say โomgggg Iโve gotten so fucking huge! Iโll be immobile in a year if I keep this upโ. I mean good for you for gaining, thatโs great. But please donโt cosplay super obese like that. โIโm unrecognizable!โ You still shop at forever 21 and Zara. โIโve gone too far to turn back nowโ I can see your collar bones. Please relax.
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stuffing you past your limits and then demanding you fuck me when youโre still way too full, so youโre resorted to grinding on my leg like a pathetic, needy animal while Iโm able to grope and squeeze your heavy, swollen belly however I want
Omg in the past week I've had so many ups and downs I'm exhausted ๐ญ
โฌ๏ธ got bumped to the first row of economy + on our flight and the arms of the seats were a solid metal slab all the way down instead of moveable arms, and my ass was WEDGED in there so bad my legs were tingling by the end. (I need the ass overflow space under the arms of the seats, rude!!)
โฌ๏ธ airline lost/someone stole our luggage with $700 worth of my clothes and shoes (yes, $700, I had to pull receipts for everything in order to get reimbursed), so had 2 outfits and 1 pair of underwear to wear for the past almost week
โฌ๏ธ oh yeah, also? My CPAP was in the lost/stolen bag! Shit sleep and still balls deep in the horrible claims process rn, yay!
โฌ๏ธ was somehow able to find a whole outfit + pajamas to wear from Walmart in my sizes 30 minutes before it closed without trying them on so I didn't need to sleep in sweaty jeans or naked the first night ๐
โฌ๏ธโฌ๏ธ having no clothes meant I could skip the family event I might have been too disabled and fat for, but still sad I missed it. Also, for 6 days had to wear the same 2 outfits of clothes that only kind of fit me bc I didn't have time to try them on before Walmart closed :( autism nightmare
โฌ๏ธ none of my family members were weird about my weight even though they'd seen me ~40, 60, or 80 pounds ago depending on the person. Only things possibly on the edge were one person saying "I've gained sooo much wei- well, I've gained 10lbs but... that's still a lot..." and then talking to me later about mutual experiences working from home leading to saying I should set a timer on my phone to get up regularly throughout the day (which is true and I should lol, but, one does wonder if that would have come up in a convo with a thin person working from home...?)
โฌ๏ธ it's been chairs with arms galore the past few days and apparently there is a biiig difference in how I'm fitting into chairs recently. If there were any arms, my ass was *squeezed* in, and there were so many chairs with a suspended design (like, the frame of the seat and below is kinda Z-shaped) that I was worried about breaking ๐ฅ
โฌ๏ธ multiple of the older people in my family are so chatgpt-pilled and talked about it constantly (hyperbolically speaking)
โฌ๏ธ On the flight back home, we got to sit in a 3-seat row for just two of us! Armrests were UP, legs were STRETCHED ๐๐๐โจ๐๐๐๐๐โจ๐๐๐ญ
โฌ๏ธ I'm finally supposed to be getting a CPAP loaner today from the airline claims vendor ๐ฎโ๐จ
โฌ๏ธ issues with my ADHD meds for the past month are fucking with meeee ๐ฅ๐ฉ
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I love when men are obedient. Youโre twice my size, and you know I canโt really *make* you do anythingโฆ but youโll still do whatever I tell you to do because it makes you happy to be a good boy. Amazing. โบ๏ธ๐
Hi, my name is Sync and I am a Black FA and into Feedism. I have met some amazing people in this space since I started to expand my preferences and open myself to learning more abound feedism on Tumblr.
I really want to give thanks especially to the POC in this space from those who write narratives , allowing folks to see themselves be free and eating, or just big living life.
I spoke about it with some of my friends in this space , and I wanted to make a community for us by us. (Maybe Discord Later?) For the melanated, by the melanated!
Talks, sharing media, new friends and relationships, playing games. You dont have to gain to join, you should feel pushed to do it to join. You can be skinny and like bigger folks, you can be chubby, midfat, or whichever and like bigger folks.
I met alot of my friend here not only by talking about my enjoyments but because I listened and read the books they read. Or the Kpop and Animes they enjoyed!
I and many others love to meet more Black and Brown folks in this space and share some good times. We are making this space fat friendly , LGBTQ, and POC Focused.
Im hoping to listen from yall, eat with yall, and grow with yall. I need all the help I can get, so if you have anything to teach me, my messages are free and mods/admins are open too. Getting artists from the space to help with art , and supporting/investing in black folks here!
Link will be public but will soon become request or search up "POC Feedist/FA"
Join over 100 million people using Tumblr to find their communities and make friends.
Wanted to Give Yall Big Thanks when you share and join!
As the week goes by I would like to treat yall to a welcoming to this space. Within the week, if you join and make a post you will be in a raffle for a Delivery App gift cards of your choice.
25-50 Members - 50 Dollars , 25 Dollars , 10 Dollars
51 - 75 Members - 75 Dollars, 50 Dollars , 25 Dollars
75+ Members - 100 Dollars, 75 Dollars , 50 Dollars
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Iโm not sure if this will be helpful to anyone, but you literally do not have to be a good writer to write and post fan fiction. Yes you will naturally get better at writing and finding your voice the more you do it but you do not have to be or become a professional level writer to enjoy writing and sharing fics. Itโs common to hear people praise fic writers by saying their work is better than published books, and while I think this comes from a good place, thatโs not the norm or expectation. There is also a sentiment that fic writing is โgood practiceโ for becoming a better writer or doing something else later, but if fic is the only creative writing you ever do that is literally okay. Your technical skill does not mean you cannot have fun and build community with your writing, or that other people cannot love and find meaning in your work.
Aww dang guess it's too hot out to do anything. Guess you just gotta stay indoors for the next three months and do nothing. Guess you gotta doordash all your food and not move an inch cause of the heat. Guess you gotta get several cartons of icecream so you can stay cool. Guess you gotta move as little as possible so you don't work up a sweat. Guess you gotta unintentionally put on insane amounts of weight because of these uncontrollable circumstances. Awww shucks
