my feeder got me this 5xl shirt early in dating, the first time i put it on i was swimming in it, now its clinging and tight around my belly 🥰

tannertan36
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Product Placement
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@sad-and-soft
my feeder got me this 5xl shirt early in dating, the first time i put it on i was swimming in it, now its clinging and tight around my belly 🥰

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Life is too short to have sex you don’t like. Be gross, be weird, don’t do it at all if it’s not for you. Expand your definition of sex. Remove yourself from things that don’t feel good. Find positions and kinks and toys that work for you. Don’t let anyone tell you that sex needs to happen a certain way or happen at all. Orgasms are optional. Involving your genitals is optional. Everything is optional. Do what you like to do and respect what other people do and don’t like to do. Good sex doesn’t make you feel bad about yourself. You deserve to have pleasure in ways that work for you.
i think you were talking abt this in a previous post ! maybe smth else but :) i havent taken too much of a look but it should have a bit of everything fashion wise
https://bit.ly/m/PlusSizeDatabase
realized i forgot furniture n my brain replaced w fashion, womp, but there might be smth in that link for that too !
ooooh this looks great, thank you! i'll have to take a look at the full list, it looks like they have a lot of stuff on here
it's not normal to be only semi mobile at less than 400 pounds, is it.... 🙈
if we have Spamton as a feedist we need Tenna here too!!!
Tenna from Deltarune is a feedist!

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@onlyroxxie - Weight Gain Comparison
You had already started to put on weight when we were dating. I was happy to get you any treat you wanted, whenever you wanted it. I always told you I was going to make you a spoiled girl. But back then, there were still some insecurities. You weren't sure if it was real. Does he really like me fat? Is he going to think I'm a pig if I get another bowl of ice cream? In time, you felt more secure in the fact that the answer to the first was a resounding "yes." I was still here, and my praise and compliments were matched by actions you couldn't deny were sincere. Eventually, you let the second question slip out of your mind. I was enthusiastic about being the one to bring you that second desert. It was better that you didn't know the answer was also a resounding "yes," but just not the way you thought.
And so you gained a little weight.
Then we got married. Everyone gains some weight after marriage. You're happy, you're comfortable, you're secure. It was no different for you. The difference was me. You thought, since you had me, you could let go, but it was actual me who had you. You weren't so much letting go as letting me take you. Coming home with cake on on a regular basis. Running out to get you ice cream in the middle of the night when you ran out. That one time I bought you a whole other burrito after the home cooked meal wasn't quite enough. And of course, ever-flowing praise and encouragement. My hands on you at all times. Orgasms after the second desert. You had finally given in, sunk into the hedonism I was providing you.
And the weight started pouring on.
You were curvy before. I always joked that the first thing I ever noticed about you was your fat ass (which was technically true, since the first glimpse I got of you was from behind while you were browsing the shelves at that bookstore). Well, once you settled into your life with me, that ass got fatter and those thighs swelled. The first 20 lbs accentuated your curves, but the last 30 has filled in your waist and turned that soft tummy into a swollen jiggly belly that's now beginning to hang over your soft fat pussy.
It hasn't gone unnoticed, and yet, it hasn't slowed either of us down. For your part, you can't ignore the fact that about half the clothes you owned before the wedding don't fit, and the other half dig in to the thick layer of soft fat that covers you. Even your flowing sun dresses that I love so much now hug your belly like maternity wear. There's a reckoning coming in the fall when the weather cools down and you're going to realize you don't have a single pair of pants that will button around your thick waist. And yet, you're less shy now than you've ever been when it comes to asking me to go out and buy you another slice of tres leches after dinner.
For my part, I get to take the credit -- or blame, as you like to call it. I just can't help it. You've got such a sweet tooth, and I, by my very nature, have to exploit it. In my defense, I haven't been shy about telling you exactly what I'm doing. How I love to spoil you. How I love the size to which your ass has expanded into and every little dimple therein. How I love the shape and jiggle of your soft belly, even if you are slow to warm up to the idea that a full belly could be an attractive trait. How I think your round face is the cutest thing I've ever seen and the way those chubby cheeks frame your smile is the definition of beauty. I told you from the very beginning that I was going to spoil you, and I wasn't going to complain when you got fat. Well, now you're spoiled and now you're fat and I am far from complaining. I'm obsessed. I can't keep my hands off you. I can't stop the praise and compliments from spilling out of my mouth whenever I'm around you. The sex is amazing and abundant and increasingly more so as your own abundance swells. I'm in awe whenever you're walking around the apartment naked. I'm in heaven when I get to feel the softness of your body pressing against mine. I worship you everyday in every way I know how. Bringing ample offerings to my goddess, while an important aspect of my practice, is just one facet.
My only sin is the other day I didn't tell you that the dress I bought you had an extra "X" in front of the "L" than the size you told me to order. You didn't notice because it fit -- even a little snug in some places -- and we both agreed it looked good on you.
A few days ago I told my wife I missed going out to the local seafood boil restaurant. We had gotten it to go a few times but it wasn’t the same. Something about those cold pitchers of beer and spicy seafood just hit harder at the restaurant. So when I asked my wife if we could go her reply was simply that we could try.
I knew what she meant by “we could try”. It was we could try to see if I’ll fit. We could try to see if I could handle the waddle from the car to the restaurant. We could try as in i may just be too heavy for this sort of thing now. The weight gain from the last year seemed to put me over the edge. Last year even though I was over 400 lbs it was still no problem. But now it’s a we can try.
So the next day we tried and I’m glad we did. It was the first time I had been out in a while. Getting in and out of the car was more of a challenge than it was last time. When we got to the restaurant I was glad to see that they still had the same seating arrangement with booths that had moveable tables. My wife got in her side first then pulled the table towards her. Then I got in. I have such a big fat spread now. When I sat down my ass and hips spread me the length of the bench seating. Then my wife pushed the table my way a little and it pressed into my stomach, so that half my belly was on the table and my tits resting on top of my belly fat.
“You fit, baby,” my wife said excitedly. A moment later the server was at the table. It was the same girl that used to serve us when we were regulars. She recognized my wife immediately then looked at me and her eyes said, “oh my you’re a big boy” but the words that came out were “long time no see. Great to see you again.”
After she took our order and left my wife looked at me. “Did you see that?” She said. “‘See what?”
“She was shocked by how fat I’ve made you.”
“What? Maybe she was shocked but why do you say it’s because she knows you are responsible?”
“Because I look happy. She saw how happy I look and saw how fat you’ve gotten. I saw the look she gave me after she looked at you.”
My wife is usually right about these things. I rarely challenge her on stuff like this or anything at all really.
When the server came back to the table with bibs and gloves she offered to put the bib on me. While she was doing so I could almost feel her taking in all my width. I looked at my wife and she still had this big smile on her face. A moment later our food came. Several bags of spicy cajun seafood. I got three lbs of shrimp just for myself and several orders garlic bread to soak up the sauce. We ate while guzzling down pints of cold beer.
I felt huge sitting there eating shrimp after shrimp. The fat on my upper arms jiggled every time I reached for my pint of beer. At one point my wife pinched my upper arm fat and smiled. “You’re such a piggie ordering three pounds,” my wife said. “I wonder if our server thinks you’re a piggie.”
“Probably,” I said. “I just don’t know when we are coming back.”
“Maybe only a couple more times,” she said. “Why a couple?” I said.
“Baby you’re getting so big. You’re going to be confined to the house sooner than you think. “
Then I felt my wife’s foot tapping on my fatpad under the table. She had slipped it out of her shoe and she was digging it into my fat. “Does that turn my piggie boy on?”
“Yes,” I said. “Does it turn you on?”
“You know it does,” she said. “When we get home i want you naked on the bed. I want to try to fuck you. I want to see if I can still get to your cock. But if I can’t I’m going to cum by straddling your belly and grinding on you. I’m going to cum so hard cuz I’m going to think about how you only have two more visits here because you’re getting so big.”
I didn’t say anything. She motioned for me to finish eating, so I did. All three pounds and some of hers. Then when it was time to go my wife helped me out of the booth, the server looking on either flustered or concerned. I couldn’t tell which.
gently cupping his lower tummy with both hands for good luck

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*sexting* I want to take care of you
so stupidly horny for the way soft flesh moves, jiggling and bouncing and rippling and swaying
i want to gain enough weight that no matter what i’m wearing my curves look obscene. i want it to be impossible to look at me without thinking about my body. how it’s causing every seam to strain and ripple, how it’s making dips and folds in any fabric i try to cover myself with. tits and hips and thighs and belly so distracting they dominate your thoughts when you’re trying to have a normal conversation with me. basically i want to be fully clothed in everyday situations and yet you can’t help picturing me naked on all fours, jiggling while i get pounded from behind
Diabetes & Gaining
or…How to Dance With the Devil and Not Lose a Leg
This is an answer to a question I get asked frequently. I thought it was long overdue I wrote a response.
Diabetes is not the end of gaining. In fact for some, diabetes marks the beginning of their serious weight gain. Many gainers I know have had diabetes for years or even decades and have continued to gain well past 400 or even 500 pounds. These people are not legless cripples; in fact, many are gainers you all know and follow on Tumblr, YouTube, or other sites. They just haven’t told you since talk of diabetes is the third-rail of gaining. (And anyway it’s really nobody’s business but theirs.) I asked a few of these diabetic gainers for help in writing this post.
Diabetes is a manageable disease. Very manageable. Easily manageable. Despite this, most people with diabetes do not manage it…
Keep reading
When I got diagnosed with my diabetes, I talked to this man on Grommr (back when I used to be a regular) and he gave me this advice. It was what ultimately got me the confidence to go back into gaining and it helped me go from 270 (at the time) and now im 520! He’s done a mountain of work for gainers and he deserves a lot of respect.
Reblogging this every time i see it cause this shit is important gainer knowledge
wasn't there a post about high weight capacity furniture with a bunch of links and stuff going around awhile back??? can someone send it to me lol

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let me take care of you. Let me dote on you. Let me cook your favorite meals and make sure you’re well fed. Let me take care of all the clean up as you sit and eat more and more. Let me feed you dessert and give you seconds. Let me watch as you indulge on all your favorite things, and watch as your belly swells up from all that you’ve consumed. Let me rub your stuffed stomach as you continue to cram more food inside your belly. Let me rub you stomach as you moan from how full you are. Let me take care of you, and treat you like the perfect fatty you are.
For me feeding is an act of love 💕
It’s about having someone you love and care about and wanting to make sure they are fed and taken care of.
It’s about taking the time to make treats for them. Taking the time to learn their allergies and their favorites.
It’s about making them feel safe and comfortable and secure so they aren’t afraid to eat and can destress.
It’s about cuddling with them and doting on them as you feed them.
It’s about reassurances and praise, telling them how much you love them and how special they are. Calming their fears about you not liking them if they gain weight.
It’s about holding them and giving them belly rubs as they drift off to sleep knowing how much they are loved and cherished.